


Once Upon Your Dead Body

by Acerobodroid



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Blood Magic, Familiar Morgana, Futaba is a year older, Graphic Violence and Murder, M/M, Older Akechi, Older Akira, Slow Burn, Warnings for individual chapters, Witch Akira, everyone else is the same age they are in game, if you've played The Cat Lady then you'll recognize some plot points, just letting you know it's gonna be wild, protag switching between Futaba and Akira, tags and characters added as story updates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 09:33:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 71,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12478552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acerobodroid/pseuds/Acerobodroid
Summary: Akira has had a very rough life. But now, things are finally right. He's part of the Sakura family and is content to be able to look after them in peace. They don't need to know anything about his past or where he came from, no matter what Morgana says about how it's not healthy to bottle up everything. He's finally found his reason to live. But as Futaba starts her first year at Shujin Academy, his past is going to wretch itself violently back into the light, and all he can do is try to protect everyone he loves from it. In the end, he'd never really escaped from it in the first place.





	1. Wake Up

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm gonna try my hand at starting this story that I've been stewing on for awhile. I'll try and update it as often as I finish chapters. I'm just too excited to start sharing it... even though I was planning on trying to actually finish the story first before I posted anything... oh well!  
> Story and chapter titles taken from Coheed and Cambria songs, as well as beginning chapter lyrics. Nothing happens in the first chapter, but I promise it's going to get much darker as we go along. Also, for this chapter, I apologize for the coffee descriptions and such... I know nothing about making coffee...

 

 _I'll do anything for you, this story is for you..._  
_(Anything you want me to, for you)_  
_I'll do anything for you, kill anyone for you..._

 

* * *

 

 

"Wow, I'm finally gonna be going back to school for the first time since mom died," Futaba spoke quietly from her gargoyle-like perch on one of the cafe barstools. The sun was setting low on the horizon, and Akira knew that there wouldn't be any more customers for the day most likely. When you had a regular customer base, with very few first-time-walk-ins, every workday came and went like clockwork. You had the old timers and businessmen early in the morning, brunch dates and people on their breaks in the early evening, and then students looking for a quiet place to crash and do homework or hang out in the later evenings. By the time sunset came, silence would wash over the humble coffee shop, and the dronings of whatever was on TV at the time served as the only source of white background noise.

"Are you nervous? We've been working on your crowd skills, and I know you've said before that you're ready, but I wanna make sure that you're still 100% on this," Akira spoke back as he cleaned glasses from behind the counter. He didn't have to look up to know that Futaba had a deep pout on her face to go with that dramatic huff of anger she directed at him.

"You don't have to keep asking! I'm totally and completely sure! I mean, I've done all my prerequisite checklist quests and everything. Besides, it's a little late now, since Sojiro has already enrolled me by my request," Futaba trailed off, becoming sheepish, "are you sure that you want to take me to orientation? I know that you said you didn't mind, but..."

"Now who's the one that's too worried?" Akira asked with a grin. Futaba shifted and looked away from him in a rare moment of shyness.

"It's just... I wanted to share this with you. You've been with me for every other event on my checklist; I wouldn't have ever made it this far without your help. It's pretty important character development I'm going through. And you're pretty much officially my big bro now, Sojiro's practically adopted you with the way he lets you run the cafe for him like you're his successor. So, I mean..." Futaba interrupted herself as she struggled to find words to express what she was feeling.

"It's ok, Futaba. I understand. I hope you're happy to know that I fully recognize that I'm never running away from all this family commitment you're throwing at me here. Don't worry about it, little sis. I got your back always."

"Exactly. I just wanted to make sure that you knew you were officially family. I want to always share big things like this with you," a blush started reddening her face, "It's been two years now, and you've helped Sojiro and me out a whole lot." A soft smile graced Akira's face at the words.

"That means a lot, munchkin. Thanks. I never really thought I'd have anything like this. A place to call home and people that care about me," he confessed. Futaba shook her head in protest.

"Well, you do! So there! And the first thing on your shiny new family responsibility list is showing me to Shujin and then picking me up after school, too!" Futaba replied.

"Ah, great, I'm so happy that my whole life was leading up to this moment. It's truly the pinnacle of existence to be your humble servant." Akira bowed at the end of his statement for extra dramatic flair.

"That's right fool! You will answer to me now! That was my plan from the very beginning!" Futaba cackled.

"How scandalous. What would Sojiro say to you turning out to be such a villain?" Akira fake gasped, extra dramatic.

"Nothing. He already knows," Futaba said with a smirk, pushing up her glasses to make the glare on the lenses flash. Akira let out another audible and fake gasp. After a few seconds of silence, both of them busted out into fits of laughter. There was a small angry hiss, and the cafe mascot cat hopped up onto one of the empty barstools and put his front paws up onto the counter.

"You two are both terrors. I'd expect all of this childishness from Futaba, she's only sixteen, but you too Akira? You're a grown man, ten years her senior! And you're throwing around all this weird drama I don't understand," the cat spoke in agitation. Futaba darted out with her hands and scooped the cat up into her arms. He wailed and yowled at the treatment.

"Hey! I'm not some domestic household cat you can just pick up and do whatever you want with!"

"Aw, somebody is super cranky! Are you upset that I won't be able to hang out with you all day and watch anime in bed and give you snuggles? I know it gets boring here at the cafe with Akira." Akira shook his head in mock irritation.

"I swear, Morgana acts more like your Familiar than mine, he spends all of his time with you while I'm at work. Don't tell me you're planning on switching Masters, Morgana," Akira joked.

"Hell no! She keeps picking me up and-" Futaba starts squishing his face, interrupting him, and Morgana has to bat her hands away with his paw- "Would you stop that?!"

"Sorry, Mona. You're super fun to mess with," Futaba answers, not sounding the least bit apologetic. Morgana bears his teeth at her in reply, hopping up onto the counter and rubbing his face on Akira's hands.

"I'd never become anyone else's Familiar anyways. You're the strongest Witch in all of Shibuya. Probably even all of Japan." Futaba raises her eyebrow at the honest praise. She can tell when Morgana is being straight or is puffing up accomplishments.

"You're really that powerful Akira? Why did you ever want to settle down? You're not exactly retirement age at 26." Akira frowns at her line of questioning, going into a rare deadpan of seriousness that Futaba hardly ever sees him do. She almost immediately regrets asking, knowing that Akira doesn't like to talk about all the stuff he used to do before he met her and Sojiro. Futaba knows pretty much nothing about Akira's life pre-Sakura Era. And Akira keeps it that way on purpose.

"This right here, it's everything that I've ever wanted: living here and being a part of you and Sojiro's lives, having a real family. I'm not ever going back to what I did before, so there's no point in discussing it. I'm happy now. Better than happy, even," Akira said somewhat tersely, giving a pointed look to Morgana. The magical cat-like being only rolled his eyes and retreated down onto the barstool beside Futaba.

"It's not good to keep it all bottled up, though. You already know that I think you should tell Futaba about at least some of the details," Morgana defended.

"No. The less she knows about what I went through, the better. We're not doing this," Akira shot back with a scowl. Futaba's eyes darted back and forth between the two. She had never seen them argue before like this, they only ever play-fought in front of her or Sojiro. Akira and Morgana held a strong bond. All Morgana had ever told her regarding their relationship was that he'd been bonded with Akira ever since Akira had first become a Witch, but the information held little meaning when Futaba didn't know how long ago that even was.

"You don't have to spill everything all at once! Just a few things at a time. When and how we met would be a good place to start, and then-" Akira hisses, not unlike how Morgana had done to them earlier. Morgana instantly recoiled, ears turned back flat, tail puffing out and the hairs on his back all standing on end. Before either of the two could start building up any more steam, however, the front door chimed, signaling a customer had walked in. All three of them looked up immediately to see a well dressed young man with a wide-eyed, hesitant look on his face. Futaba glanced and saw that Akira had instantly withdrawn into a completely blank stoic expression, and Morgana was still puffed out and looking extremely distressed. She knew she had a worried look on plastered all over her own face.

"Ah... I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" The man asked with a smooth, soft voice. Morgana immediately bolted to the back of the cafe and up the stairs, where Akira's living space was. He gave an angry yowl as he went, letting Akira know wordlessly that the argument was far from over. Akira sighed, before switching gears and instantly putting up his welcoming barista face. It always managed to catch Futaba off guard how quickly Akira could change moods like that, to hide so easily what he was thinking or feeling like he was flipping a switch. A definite red flag if she ever saw one; it reminded her painfully of how she'd been before Akira had helped her every single time she saw Akira bottle himself up. No wonder Morgana was trying to get him to spill.

"Nah, you're perfectly fine! Our cat is just a little bit crazy. But at least he knows to behave around strangers," Akira answered the patron smoothly, "Please, have a seat anywhere you like, and let me know what your order is, ok?" Akira topped it off with a friendly smile. Futaba dubbed his barista smile the "Lady Killer" because all the old ladies he used it on swooned and crowed about what a nice young man he was, much to her amusement.

"Whelp, I'm gonna head out! Gotta get plenty of rest after all!" Futaba excused herself so she wouldn't have to sit with a new customer awkwardly. She liked to limit her interactions with other people to the fewest random encounters she could manage, thank you very much. And maybe figure out how to help Morgana nag details out of Akira, because Futaba wanted to help Akira, the same as he helped her. Akira rolled his eyes, knowing full well that she wasn't going to bed at any decent time tonight.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out," Akira teased back at her. Futaba stuck her tongue out at him as she left, leaving him alone with the rare new customer encounter.

"Is it alright for me to be here? You aren't closing are you?" the customer asked, obviously worried about the lack of other people in the cafe at this time of night. Akira waved off his concern.

"We don't close for a little while more yet, I leave the door unlocked just in case a night owl or two wants a caffeine fix. You're not the first workaholic I've ever encountered," Akira motioned to the briefcase the other was holding. The man at least had the decency to look sheepish.

"And you're also not the first person to call attention to my work ethic," he replied back. Akira smirked and motioned to the barstool in front of him, as the other hadn't even decided to sit yet. He sat down at the offered spot eagerly enough.

"So, do you have a preferred blend, or would you like me to serve our cafe's recommended blend? Or," Akira gave him a devious smile, "you could take my first-timer challenge, and I'll make whatever I think you'll enjoy based on my impression of you. I'll have to warn you though; my instincts are very sharp. I've never been wrong about a person's preferences before."

"A challenge you say?" the other replied with a look of interest and a quirk of his brow, his hand coming to rest into a contemplative motion under his chin, "I can't say I'm adverse to a little excitement every once and awhile. Very well, I accept." Akira flashed a cocky and disarming smile.

"Excellent. All I'll need from you is a name, stranger. I know the names of all of my regulars, and you, my friend, are about to become one."

"Confident, aren't you? I'll play along. You may call me Akechi, then."

"Such formality. I'm Akira, and I'll be your dutiful server this evening," Akira bowed with a flourish. He saw the way Akechi hid his smile behind a gloved hand, and Akira felt a warmth spread through him. He decided to prepare an iced brew, something smooth and rich. Akira finished it off with a caramel drizzle on top, something to surprise; the bitterness offset with a sweet flavor. Akira slid the finished concoction in front of Akechi.

"I hope this is to your liking," Akira said. He waited as Akechi took the first sip, relishing the unguarded look of enjoyment before it was quickly hidden.

"I hate to admit it, but you've certainly impressed me," Akechi relented.

"I have something else for you to try as well," Akira replied, moving to the back where the curry was still simmering. The hot curry would go perfectly with the fresh drink, a sweet heat that left the mouth pleasantly tingling. Akira fixed a plate and brought it to the counter.

"You're trying awfully hard, aren't you?" Akechi asked with a raised brow. Akira shook his head.

"I have a feeling the reward will be well worth the effort," Akira said confidently.

"This really isn't necessary."

"I insist," Akira said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Very well," Akechi relented once more and started to eat as well. Akira could live off of his reactions alone. There was something so satisfying about catching Akechi off guard, the look of pleasant surprise on his face was a treat to behold for Akira. It compelled him to keep trying for that reaction over and over.

"This is amazing," Akechi appraised honestly, and Akira felt pride for everything Sojiro had taught him. It was all worth it for this one moment.

"You made this yourself?"

"I was taught by the best," Akira confessed, not willing to take all of the credit.

"Alright, you've convinced me. I'll have to keep coming back. This coffee is honestly the best I've ever had."

"See? All my effort is well worth it if I get to keep seeing you again," Akira teased with an entirely straight face. Akechi chuckled in an unconvinced manner.

"I'd be careful what you wished for," was all he said. Akechi left after finishing his meal, and Akira couldn't help but feel accomplished as he watched the other man walk out the door. He was definitely looking forward to their next meeting.

 

* * *

 

 

Futaba yawned as she crammed close to Akira on the crowded subway. All around her were similar uniforms all to the same school that she was going to. The sheer amount of people made her feel a little nauseous, but having Akira's comforting presence next to her helped fend it off. She was going to have to get used to this. No chickening out now! This is what she'd been grinding up for all this time. Finally going back to public schooling and getting back out into the world, one step at a time. She knew there was still a lot more progress to be made, but she did pride herself in how far she'd already come.

"Feeling okay?" Akira asked in low tones beside her, "I'm perfectly willing to let you take Morgana to school if you ever need it. Just keep it a secret from Sojiro."

"I don't need him nagging me from inside my bag all day," Futaba grumbled. But she did acknowledge that she wouldn't mind the company. Morgana would definitely help keep her focused, at the very least. The two of them exited and changed lines whenever it was needed, and Futaba eagerly memorized the route to take. She'd soon be doing this treck all by herself. She was ready for this! At least that's what she kept telling herself.

"Ew, it's raining," Futaba complained. As they exited the underground station from their last stop, rain began to pour down over them.

"You didn't bring an umbrella?" Akira chastised her good-naturedly.

"You didn't bring one either! Stupid Sojiro, not reminding us to take our umbrellas." Akira shrugged off his button-up jacket and draped it over Futaba's head, not caring an ounce over soaking his white undershirt. They ducked under the first overhang they came across.

"This sucks. Walking to school sucks. Why do I have to go to school again?" Futaba whined.

"Because you wanted to, silly," Akira flatly countered her.

"Ugh. Betrayed by my own brother." It was then that Futaba finally noticed a third person was standing with them. Another girl, taller than Futaba was, with beautiful blonde hair. The other girl caught her staring, and gave her a friendly smile before turning her attention back to the rain. 'A definite character flag if I ever saw one. A chance meeting getting away from the rain? Total visual novel setup,' Futaba thought to herself. A car slowly pulled up in front of them. The window rolled down, and a man called out to them.

"Hey, you need a ride?" From the way he was looking, it seemed to be only the blonde girl he was talking to. Futaba glanced up to Akira, to see him giving a scarily intense staredown at the car's driver. Futaba was momentarily stunned at the sight of it and missed the other girl getting into the man's car. When the man turned to look over at her, Futaba felt a cold sensation slide down her spine. She distantly recognized it as dread. It only took him a second to notice the unfriendly look Akira was giving him, before he scowled nastily in a split second, before rolling his window up and driving away.

"Futaba, I want you to never talk to that guy," Akira ground out, eyes never leaving the point where the car had disappeared from their line of sight, "Stay away from him."

"Um, okay," Futaba agreed, feeling more than a little confused. The two of them continued to Shujin Academy without further incident, the atmosphere between them more charged than it had been before. Akira left her to enter the school gates by herself.

"I'll be right here waiting by the time school ends, okay?" Akira reassured her, "Stay out of trouble. Don't do anything that I would do."

"Alright, alright. I guess I'll try and follow the rules."

"You better. And remember what I told you earlier." Akira seemed unusually disturbed over the guy they saw earlier, but Futaba trusted his judgment.

"I will," Futaba promised, and Akira relaxed a little at her words.

"See you later," he waved, departing casually. Right, casual. No big deal, just going to school like all the other kids. Futaba breathed deep before nodding to herself and walking through the front gate. Following the signs to the faculty office, she met her homeroom teacher for the first time. She didn't seem all that enthusiastic to be here.

"My name is Ms. Kawakami, and I'm going to be your homeroom teacher from now on, okay? Come to me if you have any questions," she spoke to Futaba with false cheer. Futaba only nodded in response, not trusting herself to say something that wasn't snarky. Akira told her not to do what he would have done, after all. She was shown to her class and was surprised to see the girl from earlier. When she noticed Futaba's stare, she gave a small, friendly wave. 'Red flag number two,' Futaba noted to herself. Ms. Kawakami asked her to introduce herself, and she inwardly panicked. 'Ok, Futaba, say something cool, something charming.'

"Uh... I'm Futaba Sakura." 'Nailed it.' There was a brief awkward silence.

"Ok, Sakura-san, you can take the empty seat right behind Takamaki-san," Kawakami continued, gesturing to the blonde girl. Futaba was now one hundred percent sure this girl was going to become her best friend. It didn't get any more evident than it was right now. 'All those visual novels and RPGs have prepared me for this moment!' The rest of the day's classes flew by in a blur, mostly because Futaba was barely paying attention to them. Either it was all stuff she already knew or things that she didn't care about. She would spend all her time texting Akira, but she knew he'd be disappointed if that was all she did her very first day. She'd save doing that for at least a couple days more. When lunch break finally came, Futaba decided to squirrel away somewhere with fewer people around. She gathered her bag up and wandered out to the hallway, considering her options. She could go to the roof, maybe? Or the courtyard? In her contemplation, she nearly stumbled when she ran into somebody standing in front of one of the entryways to the courtyard.

"Oh, uh, crap..." Futaba mumbled. She looked up to see a tired girl with a large bruise on one side of her face, and a bandage on the other. Futaba's eyes widened.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was standing in the way, wasn't I?" the other girl smiled as if nothing was amiss at all.

"I wasn't watching where I was going, so we're even. Don't worry about it," Futaba quickly replied, "I wasn't going anywhere in particular anyway."

"Are you new? I don't think I've seen you around before?" The girl tilted her head to the side in contemplation. "Do you like it here so far?" She was awfully nice, and Futaba felt a sense of kinship for her, without really understanding why.

"Yeah uh, it's pretty great," Futaba managed to spill out. She knew she had nothing to be worried about, just an ordinary interaction, but Futaba still had a few social kinks that reared up even when she was trying very hard to play it off.

"I really hope you like it here. Shujin is an excellent school. Just try not to let other people get you down. Sometimes other students can be pretty harsh on new kids. My best friend still has to deal with it sometimes, because she looks different than everyone else, but she's still always got a smile on her face. She's really brave..." the other girl trailed off, looking down. Futaba didn't know what to say. Should she try and cheer her up? Futaba wanted to but didn't know how.

"Hey, Shiho! I got us some bread from the co-op! We can eat outside! Oh," the blonde girl from Futaba's class startled as she realized that Futaba was there, "you're Sakura-san, from my class."

"Yep, that's me."

"Hey, do you want to eat with us?" The first girl, Shiho, asked, "Ann and I like eating by the vending machines outside. You should join us." Futaba blinked in perplexment.

"You totally should!" the blonde, Ann, latched onto Shiho's idea, "It's no fun being alone, right? Sit with us!" Futaba swallowed to keep herself from bailing at all the positive energy that was being thrown her way. 'All these flags, impossible! Am I getting friend requests already? This is going too fast! Where's the pause button?'

"Uh," she finally managed to croak, "That's... I mean... yeah, I'll do it. I'll eat with you guys. No problem." 'Smooth, Futaba. Be smooth. Make Akira proud.'

"Awesome! Just follow us," Ann grinned, leading the way outside. Shiho and Futaba followed closely behind. They sat down on benches underneath an awning with vending machines along the wall. Ann and Shiho started digging into their bread while starting a casual conversation. Futaba learned that Ann modeled a lot for a part-time job. Futaba dug into her bag and produced a homemade bento of curry and rice. Tapped to the inside of the lid was a note 'I believe in you!' with a cutesy drawing of Morgana. Futaba started grinning without realizing it.

"Oh, wow, that looks super good!" Ann commented, drawing Futaba's attention away from the note. Shiho nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, did your parents make that for you?" she asked.

"My big brother did," Futaba replied smoothly, not wanting to get into the whole parent thing. She could ignore it, they didn't know her situation, and Futaba would rather not have to explain.

"Was that the older guy that was with you this morning?" Ann asked. Futaba nodded. Futaba wanted to ask about the guy that picked Ann up in the car but didn't want to seem awkward or nosey. So instead, she just started to eat to avoid talking. The conversation meandered towards other things, and the other two girls seemed to have fun getting Futaba to share her interests with them. She eventually relented and talked a little about anime shows she was currently binge-watching and was surprised when the other two were familiar with some of them. Futaba was starting to have fun talking to them and was feeling pleased with how her first day was going.

"Hey, girls, everything going alright over here?" Futaba heard an older man ask. She noticed both Shiho and Ann stiffen up, and turned towards the speaker. That same feeling of cold dread from this morning resurfaced as she saw the man from the car. Akira's words echoed through her; 'Stay away from him.'

"It's good to see you helping out the new girl. We want to make sure she feels welcome here. Don't forget about practice later, okay Shiho-chan?" He continued with a smile on his face. Futaba knew he was trying to go for the friendly and approachable look, but to her, it just felt slimy and overbearing. She didn't know what it was, but she just felt so off-put and weird just looking at the guy.

"Don't worry, Coach Kamoshida, I'll be there," Shiho replied in a much more subdued voice than before. Ann remained silent, and Futaba noticed her hands were balled tightly in her lap.

"That's the spirit. And Ann, you're still modeling, right? Don't work too hard and overdo it. Your studies and student life come first, okay?" Kamoshida lectured. He was going for the impression of a friendly teacher giving advice, but Futaba thought she could hear an edge of sharp warning in his tone.

"I'm completely fine, it's not anything I can't handle," Ann answered him. Her tone wasn't necessarily subdued like Shiho's was, but it was definitely much more forced and careful. Futaba was getting bad vibes from this whole conversation on all sides.

"Don't be a stranger," he chuckled, "I'll see you ladies later." He walked away, leaving the three of them on edge until he was out of sight. It was only then that Futaba was able to release the breath she'd been unconsciously holding. All of the tension ebbed away, leaving behind an awkward atmosphere.

"Who was that?" Futaba dared to ask. Shiho and Ann exchanged a look with each other.

"That was just my volleyball coach, Kamoshida-sensei. He's the gym teacher," Shiho replied, "He coaches both the men's and women's volleyball."

"I probably won't be seeing much of him, then, I hate physical activity." Shiho giggled at her blunt response.

"That's probably for the best," Ann said with a completely straight face. It was a little concerning how drained she suddenly looked.

"We should probably start heading back to class. Lunch break will be over soon." Futaba and Ann parted ways with Shiho and went back up to their classroom. Futaba spent the rest of her school day contemplating over her newfound friends and their reactions to Kamoshida. Something wasn't right here, she could feel it.

"And don't forget, there's going to be a pep rally tomorrow afternoon for the last block of school!" Kawakami told them as class was nearly over. There were murmurs of excitement all through the room following her statement. Futaba wondered if there was any way she could escape to a power outlet and spend the whole time on her laptop instead. She was confident she could hack into the wi-fi and watch anime if she really wanted to. Futaba stared at Ann's back in front of her and wondered how she felt about the pep rally. Class ended shortly after that, and everyone started milling about and packing up. Kawakami gave a great sigh as she left the room, and Futaba wondered how she even got out of bed in the morning.

"Hey Ann, I'm sure you're gonna be front and center at the pep rally, huh? Since Kamoshida and the other male teachers are going to be playing against the men's volleyball team," one of the girls talking in the center of the room called out to her in a sneering tone.

"Oh, of course, I'm going to be there," Ann replied with an overly cheerful voice, "wouldn't miss it for anything." She grabbed her bag and aggressively stood, strutting her way out poised and unfazed. 'Cool,' Futaba couldn't help but think. She grabbed her own bags and quickly got up to follow her.

"Hey, uh, Ann," Futaba called out after her, not really sure what she was doing. Ann turned quickly, and for one terrifying moment all Futaba could see on her face was a blank, cold expression, before it promptly melted into a friendly smile.

"What's up, Futaba?" She asked. It was still a little weird having other people say her name after only hearing it from Sojiro and Akira for so long. Futaba mustered up her courage.

"If you or Shiho ever wanted to hang out, my pop and my bro run a cafe called Leblanc out in Yongen-Jaya. You're more than welcome to come over whenever you feel like it," Futaba offered. Ann looked surprised momentarily, before nodding at Futaba excitedly.

"Oh, that sounds great! Here, we should exchange chat info! I'll tell Shiho that I've added you, I'm sure she won't mind. We'll definitely have to get together." Futaba felt a warmth swelling up within her. Shiho and Ann were both super awesome, and she was grateful they wanted to become friends with her. The two of them walked out of the front entrance together, and Futaba immediately spotted Akira casually leaning against the wall of the building across the street. He looked incredibly bored, staring down at his phone. Futaba could see Morgana's head poking out from the bag slung over his shoulder, looking at Akira's phone with interest. They were probably watching cat videos or something. Futaba called out to him eagerly.

"Akira! Stop being creepy hanging out in front of my school!" she yelled, not caring about the stares she earned from the outburst. Even from across the street she could tell Akira raised an eyebrow at her. That sardonic look of his was practically trademarked by the Sakura family. A side effect of being around Sojiro too much, Futaba guessed. He started making his way towards them, and Futaba looked over to Ann, feeling a need for the two of them to get along.

"Akira, this is my friend Ann. Ann, this is my big bro," Futaba introduced. Ann bowed politely.

"Nice to meet you," she said. Akira chuckled.

"It's fine; you don't have to go through all that effort for me. I'm happy enough that you're Futaba's friend," Akira replied. Ann smiled up at him.

"It's no trouble at all, I promise." Morgana meowed and jumped out of Akira's bag, going to weave himself between Ann's legs, purring all the while.

"Aw! How adorable!" She squealed, reaching down and petting him. Futaba rolled her eyes.

"That's Mona," she said, "He's super friendly. Loves being held and having his face smooshed." Morgana gave a small affronted noise and darted over to headbutt her leg. She snickered at him.

"He's so well behaved! He follows you in your bag?" Ann asked in amazement. Morgana ate up the praise, Futaba could see him puffing out with pride. Great, now he was going to get a swelled head.

"He listens when he wants to," was what Akira said in reply, "Typical cat behavior." Now it was Akira's turn to be headbutted.

"Oh, Akira. I, uh, also invited Ann and her friend Shiho to come over to Leblanc sometime. That's not a problem, right?" Futaba asked a little shyly. Akira shook his head and smirked.

"I'm not going to say no to you hanging out with your new friends. I'm really proud of you, kid." He patted her on the head, and Futaba immediately relaxed. She didn't even know why she was so worried in the first place. Of course Akira wouldn't mind.

"We're gonna head home. Are you going to be okay, Ann?" Akira asked for politeness's sake. Ann waved away Akira's concern.

"You don't need to worry about me, honest. See you tomorrow, Futaba!" Futaba nodded.

"Bye, Ann."

"Nice meeting you, Ann." She waved goodbye to the two of them and headed her separate way. Morgana sighed at their feet.

"What a lovely creature," he said.

"Just get back in the bag," Akira replied, setting it down for him. Morgana huffed and lept back in moodily. The way to Leblanc was filled with light banter between the three of them, and by the end of the night, Futaba lay in her bed with content. But Futaba's thoughts wandered back to what that girl said to Ann earlier. Why would they tease her about being at the pep rally? Wasn't it mandatory? And why would it be a big deal for Kamoshida to be there? Futaba felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Were they implying she had a thing for him or something? But that didn't make any sense, because from what Futaba had seen, Kamoshida made her super uncomfortable. There was something that was going on. Why did Kamoshida bother her and Shiho so much? And why did Futaba feel like death warmed over whenever she saw Kamoshida's face? With all these thoughts running through her head, Futaba slid into an uneasy slumber.


	2. Crossing the Frame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Futaba learns some uncomfortable truths and decides she needs to step in and help her friends in any way possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it hasn't even been a full day, but I'm finished with this next chapter. Think of it as a gift since I might not be posting for a couple of days. I off work Mondays and Tuesdays, and the rest of the week is a tiring mess for me. I'll try my best, but these two chapters will probably be what you'll have until next week. See chapter notes at the end for warnings for this chapter.

 

 _Press the steps I take to cross your door frame here_  
_You decide to answer when my fist swings hello_  
_I left in a sudden rush and never said why you_  
_Couldn't know that I had no goodbyes_

  
_You won't believe me_  
_I would if you told me so_

 

* * *

 

 

Futaba clutched her bag to herself nervously on the overcrowded subway car. She couldn't risk anything happening to the laptop she had hidden safely inside it. She was getting nervous the closer she got to Shujin, only because she was seriously considering going through with her plan to skip out and hack into the wi-fi. As long as she hid in a classroom or even the bathroom or something, she knew she'd be set. The walk to Shujin was blessedly uneventful, and Futaba walked through the front entrance with no problem. It probably helped that no one tried talking to her the whole way there.

"Oh, shit, excuse me!" she heard a split second before a kid blasted past her and almost wrecked her all over the floor.

"Hey, didn't anyone ever teach you to be careful around delicate ladies like myself?" Futaba shouted after him, eyes zeroing in on a shock of blonde hair. 'I've got you memorized, kid, no escaping now. Revenge time!' She'd have to think of a suitably entertaining way of making that kid trip next time she saw him. Which actually was only a couple of seconds later, because as she rounded the stairs to the second floor, she could see the guy stopped in the hallway. Futaba gulped almost audibly as she saw Kamoshida standing in front of him.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Sakamoto? Running around like the delinquent you are, I see. I shouldn't be so surprised at your irresponsible behavior anymore," Kamoshida was lacing into him. For the first time, Futaba felt like Kamoshida wasn't acting. He was showing his true colors in genuine anger with his cruel words. All through this, the other boy remained silent, kicking his feet on the ground and looking anywhere but Kamoshida.

"Why do I even bother? You're obviously set on the path of destruction you started with the Track team. I hope you're happy with how that turned out," and with that final scowl of complete disgust, Kamoshida brushed past the boy aggressively, almost shoving him to the ground. Futaba squeaked and hurried up the steps to pass by Kamoshida going down them and out of his way. He didn't even spare her a glance, and she sighed in relief. The boy was still standing there, clutching his hands at his sides tightly.

"Are you, uh, okay?" Futaba asked without thinking. The boy rounded on her, face red-hot with rage, before seeing her face and letting it die off.

"It's cool. It's not the first time he's said all that shit to me, and it won't be the last," the boy, Sakamoto, grunted.

"It seems like a lot of people are having trouble with that teacher," Futaba said, more to herself than as part of the conversation. Sakamoto responded anyways.

"Really? Everyone seems pretty content just to let him do whatever the hell he wants to. Nobody ever calls him out on his bullshit and acts like everything's a-okay."

"He's really scary," Futaba murmured in a soft voice. Sakamoto's expression seemed to soften.

"Hey, it's alright. If he bothers you, you can come to me, okay? I'm pretty much the only one that will listen if it's about Kamoshida being disgusting."

"Why does Kamoshida treat you like that?" Futaba asked.

"What, like I'm shit on the bottom of his shoe? Eh, I got on his bad side once. Punched him in the face real good. It felt pretty awesome, but he's made my life a living hell since then," Sakamoto replied.

"Wow, harsh."

"You're telling me. Ah, shit gotta go! Need to get to class so I can finish that reading assignment I have due before class starts!" Sakamoto rushed off, leaving Futaba to walk to her class. She walked in and sat down behind Ann, who instantly turned around in her seat to talk to her.

"Hey, Futaba!" She greeted.

"'Sup? How's, uh, how about that pep rally, huh? Everybody in the school has to be there?" Futaba asked, trying for casual conversation.

"Pretty much, yeah. It sucks because I have to sit up with the cheerleaders and everything. It's pretty much just a big event so Kamoshida can show off," Ann told her with an eye-roll, "Completely boring."

"Gross," Futaba agreed. She felt even more vindicated for wanting to skip now. If the rally was going to be all about Kamoshida, she'd rather just bail from the start. What if they asked for student participation? Ugh, Futaba couldn't even stomach the thought of actually having to make any physical effort. Classes passed quickly, with hardly anything being accomplished due to the students being to focused on the rally later that evening. Lunch was spent with Ann and Shiho, where Ann unsuccessfully tried acting like nothing was wrong while Shiho looked more ragged and worn out than she did the day before. Futaba revealed her master plan to the two of them, asking if she had any chance to pull it off. Ann and Shiho were surprisingly super supportive, saying she'd have the best chance if she hid in the library or something. They both looked like the desperately wanted to join her themselves. But their presence at the pep rally seemed to be counted upon. Futaba could understand that Shiho couldn't bail because Kamoshida was her coach and she was part of the volleyball team, but she had no idea why Ann had to be there. She was just an average student, not part of the sports team or even a cheerleader. It was a mystery to Futaba.

Later, as everyone was filing down the stairs to the gymnasium where the pep rally was going to be held, Futaba managed to sneak off into one of the bathrooms without anyone noticing that she had broken ranks. She waited there quietly, not making a single sound as she hid in one of the stalls. A few stragglers came in and out, making Futaba's heart pound in her chest, but after a long time of waiting, everything finally died down, and Futaba was sure she was completely alone. It was bad enough that everyone had to change into their gym clothes for this stupid event; Futaba was already uncomfortable enough as it is, she wasn't about to participate in anything wearing this. She stealthily grabbed her bag from her now empty classroom that she'd had to leave behind, and then pondered her options. She could try the library as Ann and Shiho suggested, she supposed. Or maybe, she could hide out in the practice building in one of the club rooms. It was a little riskier, but if she went to the practice building, she'd know when the pep rally ended because everyone would be exiting the gymnasium from there.

With her mind made up, she headed to the second floor of the practice building through the connecting walkway of the main building's second floor. She plugged her laptop in one of the empty rooms and sat hidden by the window so she could peer out to see if there were people around. She snickered quietly to herself, hacking the school was just as easy as she thought it was going to be. She was almost disappointed at how cake it was. She glanced up for one moment and saw that Sakamoto kid was sneaking into the practice building from where she sat at the window. He was looking around, and she ducked too late when she saw he was glancing her way.

"Aw, crap," she muttered to herself. A couple of seconds later, the door to her hide spot was opened up.

"What the hell are you doing?" He asked her, only sounding just a little curious and not at all upset, "Did you sneak out of the rally too?" Futaba felt hopeful at the newfound kindred spirit.

"Obviously," she replied a little bit sassier than she intended. Sakamoto flashed her a wide grin.

"I knew it. We both hate Kamoshida's shit," he sat down across from her, looking pleased with himself, "All that rally does is stroke his stupid ego. At least there are no classes." Futaba fiddled on her laptop, typing for a little bit before responding.

"So, about that. What kind of coach is he like?"

"He's an abusive shithole," Sakamoto replied bluntly. Futaba shivered. It seems her suspicions were correct after all. "What, you didn't know? Wait..." he paused, "Are you new or something?"

"Wow, how long did it take you to figure that out? I just started at this school yesterday."

"Hey, it's not my fault! I barely talk to anyone at this school. No one wants to mess with me after I punched Kamoshida."

"Was that all you really did?" Futaba asked suspiciously.

"Well, I mean, no, there was more going on than that. But that's all you really need to know. I tried fighting him, and then some stuff happened."

"Uh-huh," Futaba shook her head and went back to her laptop. Sakamoto stared at her for a little bit.

"So, uh, yeah. My name's Ryuji. What's yours?" He asked awkwardly. Futaba had to give him some points for trying, at least.

"I'm Futaba. But you can call me the Chosen One, mortal."

"What?"

"Nevermind." Ryuji let out a chuckle.

"You're pretty weird. But in a good way?"

"Wow, thanks."

"No, seriously! It's not a bad thing!"

"You're horrible at this, y'know. Just stop while you're ahead. Even I can top your poor social skills, and I've been a shut-in most of my life. But I'll have mercy on you and let you by my minion."

"Ugh, whatever," Ryuji groused, but he was smiling so Futaba supposed he wasn't all that bothered. There was suddenly a commotion, and two guys came down the practice building hallway, one supporting the other. Futaba and Ryuji ducked down and then peeked after a little while.

"Hey, those two are from the volleyball team. Oh shit, that's Mishima!" Ryuji bolted up and headed for the door. Futaba hissed in alarm and started packing up her stuff. If he was going to blow their cover, she was at least going to make sure she wasn't caught wrist deep in the school's mainframe. She tucked her laptop safely back into her bag and followed Ryuji out of the door. He'd stopped the two other guys to talk to Mishima, who was apparently the one with the massive bruise on his face.

"Dude, are you okay? What happened?" Ryuji asked.

"It was my fault. I didn't block a spike, and the volleyball went straight into my face," he chuckled, but it sounded sad and self-depreciating. Ryuji scowled.

"Was it Kamoshida?" Mishima looked away from him.

"I have to get to the nurse's office. I'll see you later." The two boys quickly departed. Ryuji cursed up a storm as they left.

"Dammit! This is so effed up! Kamoshida pushes them all around, and I can't do anything!"

"Is Kamoshida hurting your friend, too?" Futaba asked quietly. Ryuji gritted his teeth.

"He acts like the king of this whole school and beats down anyone who even looks at him the wrong way. It's sick. You know what's the worst part, though? All the adults know about it. The principle, Mishima's parents. But they won't dare do anything because Kamoshida makes the school look so good with all the sports awards they get from his volleyball teams. He snuffed out the track team because we got in the way." Futaba looked down, contemplating. There had to be something that they could do...

"Um, wait here a second okay? I'm going to need you to show me where Kamoshida's office is. Just give me a second," she told him, before ducking back into the abandoned club room.

"Huh, what's going on?" Ryuji asked after her. But he was polite enough to follow her instructions at least and not come in after her. She set down her bag and breathed, before tapping the top of it three times.

"Morgana?" she called out softly. Akira had told her that if she ever needed anything, she could call upon Morgana this way and he'd come to her. Something about the way he was able to travel through spaces, being a Familiar. Bag-related spaces. There was a clawing sound from her bag, and Futaba quickly unzipped the top.

"You could have at least cleared your bag out, so I had enough room to come through!" Morgana hissed at her, leaping out and shaking himself off. Futaba sighed in relief.

"Morgana, I super need a favor from you right now. You know all that bugging equipment that I used to have set up in the downstairs of Leblanc? That's now in my closet as we speak? I need you to grab that for me and bring it here."

"What? What are you gonna use all that for? Are you getting into trouble, Futaba?" Morgana asked angrily.

"Please, just do it for me!" Futaba asked desperately. Morgana paused to study her face, considering her offer.

"I'll do whatever you need me to, convince Sojiro or Akira to get you sushi or something. Just, please!"

"You don't have to bribe me, although I do appreciate the sushi offering. Just promise me that you'll explain what's going on?" Morgana chirped. Futaba nodded eagerly.

"I will! Just get my equipment. And don't tell anyone about this. Not even Akira!" Morgana gave her a skeptical look, but relented and lept back through her bag after she'd taken out some things so he'd have an easier time fitting. It took a little bit, but Morgana finally poked his head back out.

"Hey, reach into your bag and grab this! Do you know how hard it is to drag this box with no hands?" Futaba quickly dove her hand in and felt a familiar small cardboard box under her fingertips. She grabbed it and pulled it out, amazed.

"Wow, this is cool Morgana. You're a lifesaver," she confessed. Morgana huffed.

"Of course I am. I'm the best Familiar ever. And that's why I'm staying with you while you do whatever it is you're gonna do with that junk."

"It's not junk; it's super sophisticated spy software. And I'm going to try and catch a teacher on recording abusing his students," Futaba replied. Morgana gapped up at her, which was honestly a funny expression to see on a cat.

"What!? Abusive teacher? And you don't want me to tell Akira about this?" Morgana yowled.

"There's no time right now. I'll... tell him eventually! But I have to do this. I need to help out my new friends."

"I'm blaming you for anything that goes wrong," Morgana told her helpfully.

"Noted." Futaba organized her bag as best as possible to let Morgana lay inside. She couldn't zip it up all the way, but maybe that was for the best, so Morgana could peek out. She clutched her box of equipment close to her chest as she exited the club room. Ryuji was still standing there waiting, looking around nervously.

"Alright, show me to Kamoshida's office," Futaba told him.

"What are you even planning on doing?" Ryuji asked, but started walking anyways, "He has a PE faculty room here on this floor."

"I'm going to catch him in the act. I'm bugging his office so I can record anything that goes on in there. Hopefully, I'll be able to get something useful. I could send it anonymously to the police, and he'll be put in jail for everything he's done. Hopefully."

"Woah, holy shit, you can do that?" Ryuji asked, awed and amazed. Futaba grinned slyly.

"I'm a pretty big deal if you haven't noticed already." Futaba could hear Morgana snort from her bag and chose to ignore him.

"Alright, here it is. Just be as quick as you can, ok? I think that the pep rally is going to end soon. I don't know when Kamoshida is going to come back here," Ryuji warned her.

"Be my look-out, then. And if anyone tries to get in while I'm here, then just yell or pick a fight or something. Give me enough time to hide."

"Shit, okay. This is really happening," Ryuji whispered to himself. Futaba entered the office, mentally preparing herself for the crimes she was about to commit. 'This is for Shiho and Ann, you piece of garbage.' She set her box down and carefully extracted her equipment, taking out a small, wireless camera. It was barely the size of her palm, round at the face and the back of it was more square, easier to fit into the corner of a room. She took out some colored shells, and fitted a white one over the camera's face, to better blend with the walls and ceiling. Next, she took out an adhesive kit and applied strips to the back of the camera to secure it into the ceiling corner. She chose the far lefthand corner and as quickly and silently as she could manage, slid a table over to stand on. She still had to jump up to place the camera, but she managed it.

'Curse my midget height. Why couldn't you have given me more height along with all this brains and beauty, mom?' With that finally done, she flipped the small switch on the bottom of the camera to start it, and then hopped down and moved the table back where it'd been, taking careful notice to make sure that everything looked untouched. She surveyed her handy work, pleased to note that the white coating on the camera made it barely visible unless someone was actively searching for it. All that was left was to fire up her laptop and link it up to start the recording software, and that would be it. Just as she was turning to exit the room, relief at being done and not having been caught, Ryuji gave an angry shout. 'Oh shit,' she panicked, looking around the cluttered office for a space to hide. 'Why can't there be any conveniently empty lockers when you need them?' She thought frantically as she dove for some cardboard boxes at the far left corner of the room. They were stacked in such a way that she could hide crouched and not be seen from the front and middle of the room, but if anyone moved to the back, she'd be undoubtedly visible if they just turned to the left.

Ryuji was arguing pretty hard, she could tell from the muffled sounds outside the room, but she wasn't close enough to hear what was being said or who he was yelling at. After a few moments, the talking stopped, and Futaba hoped that they'd all left and she could sneak out, but then she heard the door open and felt her stomach drop.

"I can't believe that stunt you pulled today," she heard Kamoshida's voice say, "were you trying to sabotage my pep rally?" He sounded super pissed, not like any other time Futaba had heard him speak before. With Ryuji, it had been condescending but still controlled. Here, he sounded wild and about to lose it.

"N-no," another voice whimpered in reply, and Futaba recognized it as Ryuji's friend from the hall, the one that had gotten hit by a volleyball in the face. Mishima, she was pretty sure.

"Well, it sure did look like it. I graciously let you keep your spot on the team despite your lacking performance recently, and this is how you repay me? All the work I put into getting all of you lazy pieces of garbage into shape, and you still can't do anything right. It's like you're not even trying to improve!" Kamoshida growled, keeping his voice low. Mishima stayed silent, and Futaba didn't blame him. Next, Futaba heard a terrifying smack, and Mishima let out a tight and controlled whimper. Futaba clamped her hand over her mouth tightly to keep herself from making a single sound. It was like Mishima had experience keeping his reactions as quiet as possible. Futaba felt nauseous and dizzy all at once and started trembling. There were a few more hitting sounds and then the sound of someone hitting the floor. Kamoshida gave a defeated sigh.

"There's just no helping it. I need to be harder on you. I've been too lenient, gotten too comfortable and letting things slide that I shouldn't be. And Sakamoto is always showing his face around me and stressing me out. What an utter waste of talent he was, not even worth any pity. But you're not like him, Mishima. You're a good kid that just needs to get his head in the right place. But that's what I'm here for, to guide all of you into being the best team you can be, even if that means I have to get my hands dirty every now and again. Now, get up off the floor and get back to school. And don't even think of trying to get out of practice today, you're still going to be participating." There was some shuffling, Mishima standing up Futaba assumed, before a weak reply of, "Yes sir."

"Oh, and make sure to tell Shiho to get in here before practice starts," Kamoshida said. Then, Futaba heard the door open and close. She crouched there shaking, praying that Kamoshida would leave, would just go and find something else to do. Instead, she heard the beeps of someone dialing numbers on the phone. She kept herself still and waited. It took a few rings before someone finally picked up his call.

"Ann, sweetie, what took you so long? Are you free to come over this evening?" he asked in an overly saccharine voice. Futaba felt a dry heave coming and did all she could to force it down. 'Oh my god, he's got Ann's number? And calls her? And tries to get her to come over to his house?' her thoughts raced. 'This is getting way worse by the minute!'

"What do you mean you don't feel like it? I've done nothing but be a complete gentleman to you. I deserve a little of your time after everything I've done to help out your friend Shiho. Or maybe you really don't care about her, huh? You wouldn't care at all if she was kicked straight off the team, is that what you're telling me?" There was a pause as Kamoshida listened to Ann's reply.

"I don't care what our deal was before. I've changed my mind. And you better hold up your end, or there's going to be consequences," Kamoshida threatened. There was a sharp snap of a flip phone being shut, and Futaba nearly screamed when she heard Kamoshida hit something in his office. There was a screech of metal on the floor and a rancorous clatter, and Futaba guessed that he kicked or pushed a chair over or something. Angry breathing and huffing followed, and Futaba just couldn't stop shaking. 'Please leave, please leave, please leave,' she chanted to herself. Finally, she heard the click of the door opening and then shutting hard. Futaba nearly cried from the sweet relief that she felt. Morgana wiggled out of her bag and peeped his head around the boxes, before nodding to her. She peered around them to watch him run over and leap onto a small filing cabinet beside the door, before pushing the handle down with his paws. When the door was open, he peeked out into the hallway.

"Okay, Futaba looks like the coast is clear. Let's hurry out of here!" he whispered. Futaba nearly tripped over her own feet as she forced her trembling legs to carry her out of this god awful office. She closed the door carefully behind her and quickly got Morgana back into her bag, before leaving the practice building as fast as possible without looking super suspicious. She needed to go and change into her regular uniform and go home, try and compartmentalize what she'd just heard. She needed to find Ann or message her or something, invite her over for the night, anything to keep her from going over anywhere near Kamoshida and his house. Futaba yelled and nearly punched the lights out of Ryuji when he put a hand on her shoulder.

"Woah, shit! Sorry, dude! I didn't mean to scare you," He apologized profusely, "Are... are you okay?" He asked hesitantly. Futaba must have still looked shaken up.

"Ah, yeah, just peachy. Want to change back into my uniform now. Is there anywhere we can talk more about this... in, uh, private?" Futaba fumbled through her words. Thankfully, Ryuji seemed to take the not so subtle hint.

"Yeah, right. Meet me on the roof. We can talk more there. No one is allowed up there, but I've managed to get the door unlocked."

"Sweet. We'll meet up back at home base, then."

"Uh, home base?"

"The roof! Duh!" Futaba scurried off to change. Morgana remained silent the whole time until they were alone in the bathroom.

"You still don't want me to tell Akira?" Morgana challenged her, "This is serious, Futaba! Physical abuse is going down at this school, by a teacher!"

"I know! Just, let me get the evidence first. Then I'll come to him with it. I need to do this; I need to help them. What could Akira do in this situation? Without proof, we don't have anywhere to start," Futaba countered.

"I promise that you can tell him about this, Futaba. He'll understand," Morgana pleaded, "He's been through stuff like this before."

"What do you mean by that?" Futaba asked, voice sharp, "Are you saying he's been abused before? That he's dealt with abusers?"

"I can't... ugh! It's not my place to tell you myself. I wish I could. But I literally can't say anything personal about him without his permission. It's part of our pact. We swore to keep each others' secrets."

"I want to know," Futaba found herself saying. She didn't used to care this much about where Akira had come from. She was just happy that he was in her life. He just swooped in and helped her, like a guardian angel, and stayed. But now... he might need her help too. She couldn't let go of what happened to her in the past, and she was starting to recognize that Akira held onto his more than he even realized.

"Let's just go meet up with Ryuji and figure out what we're gonna do about Kamoshida. I'll tell Akira sometime when I have the proof."

"Just give me some time. I'll try and get Akira to open up to you, okay? You both deserve it," Morgana murmured sullenly. Futaba quietly nodded and headed to the rooftop where Ryuji was waiting.

"Finally! What took you so long? I've been waiting," he complained, but Futaba could tell his heart wasn't really in it.

"Just sorting thing's out. Okay, let me just..." she took out her laptop, and Morgana lept out of her bag and stretched out beside her.

"You brought your cat to school? In your bag?" Ryuji gasped with a bug-eyed look.

"Yeah, so? You gonna tell?" Futaba accused as she turned her laptop on. Ryuji backed down immediately.

"As long as the cat is fine, I won't say anything," he relented. Futaba nodded.

"Good. Now, let's hook up this software and get this bad boy running," she said. Ryuji came to look over her shoulder.

"You really installed a camera in Kamoshida's office?"

"Heck yeah I did, what kind of amateur do you take me for? This is noob stuff."

"You're more hardcore than I thought, Futaba," Ryuji whispered. Futaba grinned at the praise.

"Of course! Now watch this." She typed away, opening programs and sorting through code so fast that it made Ryuji's eyes hurt. Then, a feed window popped up, showing Kamoshida's currently empty PE office.

"Woah," was all Ryuji could say. Futaba chuckled.

"Behold, my true power," she said.

"So, now what?" Ryuji asked. Futaba turned to him, eyebrow raised.

"We wait, obviously. I'll have this program running 24/7, and we'll catch Kamoshida beating students," Futaba paused, "While I was hiding, he hit Mishima."

"What! I knew he was up to some shit, as soon as I saw him dragging Mishima to his office. I made up some excuse that I was waiting to see him to make sure Mishima was alright, but Kamoshida got all snarky on me, and I couldn't control my temper. He threatened to go to the school board about me, so I had to leave fast," Ryuji confessed.

"Yeah, well, he dragged Mishima in that office and beat the crap out of him," Futaba replied, "And then he..." she paused, shuddering, "He called Ann. He's blackmailing her to try and get him to sleep with her."

"Ann? Holy shit. That's..." Ryuji cursed under his breath. "I knew there were some nasty rumors about her and Kamoshida, but I never really believed any of it. I knew her in middle school, y'know? She would never let Kamoshida do all this shit to her."

"He's using her friend Shiho to blackmail her. I mean, our friend," Futaba corrected herself.

"This is so messed up. Are we going even to have enough time to wait for your recordings? What if he tries something on Ann? Or does something serious to any of the other volleyball players?" Ryuji started to panic.

"I don't know! This is all I can do! I don't know how to help!" Futaba cried, getting more than a little upset. Seeing her start to get red in the face from trying to hold back tears, Ryuji quickly calmed himself.

"No, you're super awesome, Futaba," he said, "You've already done way more than I'd ever been able to."

"It scares me that I can't help them. That it feels like there's nothing we can do because no one wants to stop him. None of the teachers, the parents, the principle," A cold, dark thought crept into Futaba's head, "What if we go to the police, and they won't help either?" Ryuji swallowed hard, not having an answer for her.

"Alright, enough of this," Morgana pipped up. Ryuji yelled, startled.

"Oh, what the hell? Your cat talked!" He screeched.

"I'm not a cat, you punk!" Morgana hissed, "If you're really committed to stopping Kamoshida, then I might know a way to help."

"No, seriously, please explain to me why your cat is talking," Ryuji whined.

"It's because he's a magical being called a Familiar. He's... bonded to me. I'm a witch," Futaba quickly lied. There was no way she was going to talk about her brother to Ryuji, the less connected he was to this mess, the better.

"For real? Are you a witch? Like, potion brewing and shit?" Ryuji asked. Futaba looked over to Morgana. He merely flicked his tail back and forth, saying nothing.

"First of all, rude. Secondly, no I don't brew stupid potions. There's more to being a witch than that. Complicated stuff that I'm not going to get into with you, it's not important right now," Futaba quickly redirected the conversation, "What do you have in mind, Mona?" She at least had enough sense not to reveal his name to Ryuji. If there was one thing Futaba had learned, it was that magical beings' true names had power. Once Ryuji knew Morgana's real name, a connection would form between them. Not a powerful one and Ryuji wouldn't even notice probably, but still.

"A ritual that I know of. We're going to destroy Kamoshida's warped desires. First, we're going to need something that belongs to him that represents his vices and fixations, or where they come from. Then, we use a specific magic circle to draw out his twisted desires and seal it into that vessel. Then, we destroy it, thereby symbolically and realistically destroying the grip those desires have on his heart. His heart will be reborn uncorrupted. The weight of the knowledge of everything he'd done before will be enough to crush him into revealing his sins and confessing."

"For real? He'll break down and confess himself?" Ryuji asked in wonder.

"Well, in theory."

"In theory!? What do you mean by that?" Ryuji yelled.

"I've never actually done this before, okay! It's just something I know about!" Morgana hissed.

"I'll do it," Futaba said, no hesitation.

"Hold on! I need to let you know the risks first!" Morgana cried, "It could be super dangerous! If we draw out more than only his twisted desires, we could end up destroying his humanity. Kamoshida would be reduced to a husk, a living vegetable. But, if we don't draw it out correctly, his twisted desires could backfire and consume him entirely. He'd go mad with it, and we could unintentionally create a Parasite."

"A parasite? What does that mean? He'd be even worse than he is now?" Ryuji asked.

"So now that you know what could happen, do you still want to do this?" Morgana asked Futaba, completely ignoring Ryuji's question. Futaba clenched her teeth.

"We have to. I'm not letting Kamoshida hurt my friends or anyone else anymore. He needs to be stopped," Futaba replied with conviction.

"But we need to get something of his, don't we?" Ryuji asked, "How are we gonna manage that?"

"I have an idea. I'm going to ask Ann to help us," Futaba said.

"Wait, hold on a minute, you're gonna drag her into this?" Ryuji seemed flabbergasted at the idea.

"Why not? She has as much of a say in this as we do. She's the one being blackmailed by Kamoshida for... favors, after all," Futaba reasoned, "I'm going to invite her for a sleep-over tonight. It'll also serve as a good excuse for her to have plans not to go out, y'know, to see Kamoshida or something." Futaba already started messaging on her phone before Ryuji could get another word in, "Then I'll start trying to ask her about anything Kamoshida owns that he's fixated on, or something. She'll be able to give us insight that we don't have." Ryuji sighed, already knowing he wasn't winning this argument.

"Alright, fine. And then what? We steal his shit?"

"Yep."

"Woah, just like that?" Ryuji blinked at Futaba's readiness.

"I already told you, I'm gonna do whatever it takes to stop him. I've already snuck into his office and planted a bug in it, stealing something should be no problem. I'll try and get answers from Ann tonight, and then we'll put our plan into action sometime tomorrow."

"Tomorrow!? Shit, Futaba you're way too hardcore for me."

"You're really going to involve Lady Ann in this?" Morgana asked warily.

"What, you like her?" Futaba teased, "She'll be coming over tonight so you'll be able to see her again. She agreed to come over just now. She said it'd be good to try and do something fun."

"Please guys, we have to be careful about this. I'll help you out with everything as best as I can, but nothing is guaranteed," Morgana warned, tail flicking in agitation.

"Don't worry, Mona, we got this," Ryuji exclaimed, "If this is what we have to do to stop Kamoshida, then we need to put our all into it!"

"Yeah, that's right!" Futaba agreed. She held out her hand. Ryuji placed it on top of her's. "You too, Mona!" He shook his head but put his paw on top of Ryuji's hand anyways.

"I feel like I'm a babysitter," he grumbled.

"Operation Steal Kamoshida's Desires, go!" Futaba yelled. They all lifted their hands into the air.

"We'll meet back here tomorrow, and hopefully Ann will be with us too," Futaba concluded.

"Alright, I'm counting on you," Ryuji said. Futaba nodded.

"Don't worry; I got this." They hurried to leave school, having spent the last of the afternoon before everyone was supposed to go home on their strategy meeting. Futaba kept messaging Ann, and she met her at the front entrance.

"I'm super happy you wanted to hang out," Ann told her, "I tried to get Shiho to come along, but she said that she wouldn't be much fun since she'd be worn out from having practice before she came over."

"That's understandable, I suppose," Futaba replied, "It's okay with your parents for you to come over on such short notice?"

"Oh, my parents are overseas for their job right now. They do that a lot, so it's just me most of the time," Ann confessed.

"Wow, that sounds lonely. Don't be afraid to ask for sleep-overs if you want," Futaba offered, "We can hang out any time."

"Thanks, Futaba, you're a terrific friend."

"You're the first person to ever say that to me, so I'll have to take your word for it."

"Just let me go home and get my things, and I'll come over. You said to meet you at Leblanc, right? In Yongen-Jaya?" Ann asked.

"Yeah, I just live a street down from our cafe, so it's a good meeting spot," Futaba said, "I'll send you the address so you can look up directions."

"And your parents won't mind that this is such short notice?" Ann turned her own question around.

"Sojiro won't mind. He'll just be really pleased that I've already started socializing. And my bro lives in the cafe on the second floor so he won't be a problem either. He's also really excited that I have friends now."

"Sojiro? Is that your dad? You call him by his name?" Ann asked, a little perplexed.

"Well, it's..." Futaba trailed off, not wanting to explain, but also feeling that she had to.

"Don't worry about it; I won't judge if you don't want to tell, okay?" Ann said, sensing Futaba's hesitation.

"Yeah, thanks. You're a great friend too, Ann," Futaba replied. Ann's face lit up at the praise. They parted ways but kept messaging each other the whole way back home. Futaba busted into the front door of Leblanc, letting Morgana slip in behind her instead of carrying him in her bag. She felt that might be too suspicious.

"I was wondering where you went off to, Morgana. Did you want to pick Futaba up today?" Akira asked with a smirk.

"He wanted to see my friend Ann again," Futaba answered smoothly. Akira ran a hand through his hair, smiling down at Morgana fondly.

"Really now?"

"She's the most beautiful person I've ever seen! Don't judge me!" Morgana hopped up to the counter, demanding attention in a very cat-like way. Akira relented and started petting him to appease him.

"By the way, I invited Ann over to spend the night at the house tonight," Futaba said casually. She felt a little bad when she saw the excitement on Akira's face.

"You've made friends so quickly. I'm proud of you," he told her. Her face reddened both out of pride and guilt.

"I have to go get ready, and tell Sojiro that I'm expecting company," she said, starting for the door.

"Futaba," Akira called. She froze, willing herself to remain calm as she turned to him.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"Have fun tonight, okay? Let me know if you need anything. Anything at all." Futaba could feel her face flush even harder.

"I will, big bro. I promise," Futaba replied, and darted out of the door. She could hear Akira's amused chuckling behind her before the door closed it off. She gave herself a minute to calm down before walking home. She needed to prepare herself in more ways than one. A lot of their plan was riding on whether Ann would be willing to help or not. She just hoped that they'd be able to take Kamoshida down before anything serious happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings:  
> Ryuji swears like the punk we all love  
> Kamoshida is Kamoshida and we hate him  
> Lots of talking about physical abuse  
> Non-graphic depiction of physical abuse  
> Kamoshida creeping on Ann and blackmailing her


	3. Goodnight, Fair Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Futaba, Ann, Ryuji, and Morgana make plans to try and complete their ritual in one night. There are complications.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if the pacing seems a little... I dunno, rushed? I kind of feel like it is? But I didn't want to linger too long on unimportant details, I tried to keep the story rolling along as smoothly as possible. I like writing out conversations as organically as possible, so I apologize for that also? If it seems rambling? Maybe I'm being overly harsh on myself. Let me know what you guys think. No real warnings for this chapter, just more of Ryuji's swear mouth.

 

_Turn me over, roll me 'round_   
_To find the truth that I don't want found_   
_Oh, don't believe everything you hear_   
_I'm a snake waiting for you, dear_   
_And eventually you'll come to me_   
_And eventually you'll come to me_

_I know you will_

 

 

* * *

 

It didn't take much for Futaba to convince Sojiro to let Ann come over. All she had to do was bust out her pouty look, and Sojiro caved like a wet paper bag. She cleaned up her room as best she could for the company, making sure the floor was clean and that there was enough space for Ann to sleep on the floor. Or, on second thought, for Futaba to sleep on the floor. She hadn't really decided yet, but she felt weird about making Ann sleep down there. She checked her phone regularly, keeping updated on Ann's progress and how far away she was. She wanted to be able to meet Ann at Leblanc and then whisk her over to the house as fast as possible. Nothing could seem amiss to Akira. When Ann finally texted that she was heading down the street, Futaba rushed downstairs and bolted out the door.

"Going to pick up Ann, be right back!" she called out to Sojiro, who was making dinner in the kitchen. Not waiting for a reply, she headed to Leblanc. When she peered through the front door, she found Ann standing in front of the counter, talking to Akira. Futaba blew air up at her bangs and then steeled herself as she entered.

"Akira, don't mess with my friend," she whined. Morgana was purring contentedly on one of the barstools as Ann petted him. 'What a traitor.'

"I'm not messing with her. She was telling me about how you two met," Akira corrected her with a grin.

"I was also telling him how impressed I was with the homemade bento! Futaba told me you cooked that for her," Ann gushed. Futaba huffed, getting impatient.

"You're in for a treat, then. Our dad Sojiro is cooking curry tonight for dinner. You'll get to eat food made by the master," Akira responded.

"Yep! And it should be done soon, so we should get going! It's getting late after all," Futaba prompted. Ann giggled at her.

"Okay, okay," she relented. Morgana lept off the barstool and sat beside Futaba, letting his intentions of following them be known. Akira rolled his eyes down at him. Then, Ann's phone went off. She seemed to freeze for a second, eyes glazed over with dread, before taking her phone out and swiftly checking the ID. Futaba could see Ann's hand tremble slightly as she saw it, and then quickly swipe to ignore the call before putting her phone back into her coat pocket.

"My agent is always calling to get me to take extra work," she excused, her voice tight, "He only gets the hint if I ignore him sometimes." Futaba chanced a glance over at Akira, to see him studying Ann carefully, a completely blank expression on his face.

"So! Dinner right? C'mon Futaba, let's go," Ann hurried, and the two of them quickly left, Morgana in tow. Akira stared after them, leaning against the counter with his chin rested on his hand.  
Dinner at the Sakura house passed by fairly quickly, small talk about school being the main topic at the table. When they were finished, Futaba took Ann up to her room excitedly.

"Has Shiho been doing okay?" Futaba asked Ann once they were safely alone. Morgana stretched and curled up on a pillow at the foot of her bed.

"Why do you ask?" Ann tried for casual, but Futaba could hear a slight strain in her voice.

"She's always bruised up from practice," Futaba pointed out, "and she looks super tired. Isn't she allowed to have recovery time for being injured that badly or something?"

"She works really hard," Ann responded, voice tight, "she won't ever let herself take it easy. She thinks volleyball is the only thing she's good at. But that's not true!" Ann looks down, rubbing at her arm. "I wish there was some way I could convince her that she doesn't have to try so hard. She's already amazing, and smart, and the best friend I've ever had." Futaba swallowed down her nerves, forcing herself to look at Ann straight in the face.

"I think that Shiho needs our help," Futaba said, "I think that Kamoshida is abusing her, and all the other volleyball players he coaches." Ann clenched her hands, trembling.

"No! I... he can't be hurting her! He promised-," She cut herself off abruptly, biting her bottom lip hard.

"I know he calls you," Futaba whispered, sitting down on her bed and curling her knees up to her chin, "And that he's trying to get you to do favors for him."

"How? How do you know that?" Ann hissed, red in the face and looking furious.

"I bugged his office during the pep rally because I was suspicious about him," Futaba explained quickly, "and while I was in there, I almost got caught by Kamoshida. I hid behind some of the clutter in his office and heard him beating up another kid on the volleyball team. And then I heard him call you." Ann trembled, backing into Futaba's closet door, before sliding down to sit on the floor, tears in her eyes.

"Just stop it," Ann hissed, "Whatever it is you're trying to do, just stop."

"I want to help you!" Futaba pleaded.

"There's no escape for me anymore!" Ann yelled, "I can't escape! He won't let me!" There was a silence, where Ann buried her face into her knees, trembling, and Futaba listened to make sure that Sojiro hadn't been alarmed enough to try to come to her room. When she determined that Sojiro wasn't going to try and bust down her door, she finally responded.

"What if I told you that we could do something about him? Together? I promise you that I'm not lying. I want nothing more than to make sure Kamoshida stops hurting you and Shiho. You're my friends, and I care so much about you already. And even if you weren't, what he's doing isn't right. I can't let it continue," Futaba spoke softly.

"You really heard him call me?" she asked in a small, muffled voice, head still pressed down.

"Yeah, he sounded disgusting. Blackmailing you and using your friendship with Shiho against you."

"I hate it. I hate that Kamoshida keeps trying to get me to sleep with him. He keeps threatening to kick Shiho off the team if I don't do what he says. He's even threatened to go to the school board and tell them I'm trying to seduce teachers," Ann snarled, lifting her head up. "And on top of that, he's beating Shiho behind my back! I won't forgive him." Ann clenched her hands tight on her knees; she had a furious expression etched onto her face.

"I want your help exposing everything that he's been doing," Futaba said, "I know I told you that I'd bugged his office, but I'm having doubts that my evidence of his crimes will be good enough. The adults at school are all untrustworthy if they're letting all of his actions go uncorrected. So I had to come up with a plan that will get him locked up for sure."

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact you actually bugged his office," Ann replied with a wide-eyed look. Futaba smirked.

"It's one of my many talents. I'm a self-taught hacker that can crack any system."

"Holy crap," Ann whispered.

"That's not all. I'm also a witch. And you're gonna help me perform a ritual on Kamoshida to make him confess his sins."

"Okay, now you've lost me," Ann said with a frown, "Are you serious right now?"

"Deadly serious," Morgana chirped. Ann shot up from her spot on the floor, pointing with her mouth agape.

"You! You can talk!? I've been petting you and treating you like a normal cat all this time! You tricked me!" Ann looked like she was a second away from clocking him.

"Hold on now! It's not like I could reveal myself or anything!" Morgana jumped up to his feet, tail straight up and ears back flat. Ann relaxed her posture, but her face showed she was still upset.

"You need to explain to me how this is happening right now."

"Mona is my Familiar," Futaba said bluntly, "He's a magical being that's bonded to me. Because I'm a witch and stuff."

"Is that all you're going to tell me?" Ann huffed.

"Well, I mean, that's all there is to tell," Futaba shrugged.

"Whatever, that's not even the most important part. I want to know what you meant by 'performing a ritual on Kamoshida'. Like, voodoo or something?" Futaba glanced over to Morgana for help.

"It's not voodoo. I guess technically you would call it black magic? It's just something that I know about," he explained.

"So we're just going to perform black magic on a teacher casually?" Ann asked in a raised voice. Futaba shushed her.

"Keep your voice down! My dad is still in the house with us you know!" she stage-whispered. Ann put her hand on her face.

"This is the only thing I could come up with to stop him," Futaba tried reasoning with her, "we can't trust anyone to try reporting him if the school is turning a blind eye. Who knows what they'll do to try and protect him? If we went to the police with evidence, there's no guarantee they'll take us seriously. I mean, if parents know about it and aren't saying anything, then what if that means that the parents who tried to speak up about it were discredited or ignored? If that's the case, then what chance do we have?" There was a pregnant pause as Futaba waited for Ann's response. She stood there for a minute with her head in her hands, before finally dropping them and looking up at Futaba with determination.

"I'm not letting Kamoshida get away with what he's doing," Ann growled, "If he's hurt Shiho in any way, then he needs to pay for it. I've decided that I don't care what we have to do, no matter if we're cursing him or whatever else. I want him to stop."

"I need to warn you," Morgana piped up, "this ritual could be dangerous. We could reduce Kamoshida to an unresponsive vegetable." Futaba blinked, noticing that Morgana didn't mention the parasite thing he had before. Was he trying to hide it?

"I don't care," Ann replied, "I honestly don't care what happens to scum like him, as long as he pays."

"Very well, as long as you feel like you can live with the consequences," Morgana relented.

"I needed your help because, for the ritual to work, we need something precious that belongs to Kamoshida," Futaba explained, "What we're going to do is channel all of his twisted desires into that object, and then destroy it to release it's hold on his heart. That way, he'll realize all at once all of the horrible things he's done, and the guilt of it will crush him enough that he'll want to confess everything himself."

"And it's going to work?" Ann asked.

"In theory," Morgana confessed.

"In theory!? So you don't know if it works!?" Ann whisper-yelled, trying to keep her voice down.

"What's up with everyone doubting me? As long as I'm helping you guys, nothing will go wrong," Morgana huffed.

"Yeah, Ryuji had pretty much the same reaction," Futaba said.

"Ryuji? Are you telling me he's in on this too? I shouldn't be so surprised; I'm sure he'd jump at the chance to do anything to Kamoshida," Ann muttered with a frown.

"He's friends with the kid Kamoshida was wailing on when I almost got caught in his office," Futaba told her, "we got along because he was skipping the pep rally and he found me skipping." Ann gave out a startled laugh.

"Wow, this is insane," she chuckled, "but, whatever, I'll help you guys. Doing anything to try and stop Kamoshida is better than doing nothing at all, I guess."

"That's the spirit!" Futaba fist pumped the air.

"So, we find an object that's important to him? And then what, steal it?" Ann asked.

"That's the gist of it, yeah," Futaba confirmed, "Ryuji and I were hoping that you'd have more insight on that."

"What, because Kamoshida spends all his time trying to impress me?" Ann asked rhetorically in a dark tone, "I guess it's not much of a secret that he's been hitting on me. There are all these nasty rumors about me floating around school." Futaba frowned, a worried expression on her face. Ann sighed.

"Sorry, I'm not mad at you or anything. I'm kinda glad that you wanted my help. I deserve to have a hand in destroying him."

"Those were my thoughts exactly," Futaba agreed. Ann flashed her a thankful smile.

"I just wish Shiho could be here. Ugh, and when she said she probably wouldn't make it because of practice, she meant she'd be too beat up after Kamoshida got his hands on her! I hate him so much!" Ann snarled, sitting down on Futaba's bed beside her angrily.

"But now we're going to make him pay," Futaba told her. Ann nodded vigorously.

"Right," she sighed, pondering for a moment. "Y'know, there is one thing that comes to mind, though. Kamoshida has this medal; it's a medal he won for some volleyball tournament he was in once. You'd think it was Olympic gold with the way he talks about it."

"Woah, that sounds pretty important," Futaba blinked.

"Yeah, he won't ever shut up about how great of a player he used to be, and it's because of all of his achievements that our school is so famous." Ann rolled her eyes. Futaba nodded.

"Then that's what we need to get our hands on. You have any idea where Kamoshida keeps it?" she asked excitedly.

"I'm not sure. It seems like something he'd keep locked up in a trophy case at his house or something, right? I've never seen it framed up anywhere in his office. And he'd have it somewhere everyone could see for sure."

"Ugh! This sucks! We need that medal. Maybe we can snoop around his office first, and if we can't find it, then..." Futaba trailed off.

"Then we'll have to break into his house," Ann winced.

"I don't want to have to do that," Futaba confessed, "I don't want to be anywhere near where Kamoshida lives."

"Me neither," Ann shuddered.

"Don't give up hope, guys! We'll figure something out! Maybe we'll find a good substitute in his office? We could get lucky," Morgana suggested hopefully.

"I dunno, that medal seems like our best option," Futaba responded.

"We don't know until we try. And if we don't find it, I'm sure we'll think of something," Ann reassured her.

"Okay, then we'll sneak into the school tomorrow night and see what we can find," Futaba nodded to herself.

"Woah, tomorrow night? We're going to be ready to do this by tomorrow?" Ann asked in shock.

"I have a plan. Morgana, remember how you transported my camera equipment through my bag today?"

"You're not going to try and suggest what I think you're going to suggest, are you?" Morgana responded flatly.

"I sure am! Can you take us through bags if they're big enough to fit through?" Futaba pressed. Morgana groaned.

"It takes a lot of energy for me to move through bag spaces like that. And you're asking me to tag three people along on top of that? You're pushing me to the limit here..." Morgana complained, "I'm going to need compensation for this if I do all of that."

"I'll let you sleep next to me tonight," Ann offered casually, "I mean, that should be no big deal. You're a cat, so it's not that weird. Even if you can talk."

"You'll let me snuggle with you?" Morgana asked with an innocent, child-like excitement in his voice.

"Sure," Ann giggled, "Will you help us out, Mona?" Morgana darted over onto Ann's lap, purring and rubbing his face on her stomach.

"Anything for you, Lady Ann!" he chirped.

"Ugh, now that we've settled on what we're going to do, can we get to doing fun sleep-over stuff now?" Ann asked, "I want to get around to having fun like I thought we were going to tonight."

"Alright, time to bust out the big guns then! Let me ask you, have you ever heard of a show called Phoenix Ranger Featherman R?"

 

* * *

 

"I don't know what it is about coffee, but the aroma is always so appealing," Akechi spoke softly. Leblanc was empty this late in the evening, save for Akira and his sole customer. "I don't think I could ever get tired of this smell." He brought his fresh cup of hot coffee to his lips, drinking slowly and savoring it.

"If you like it so much, you should get scented candles or something," Akira replied, "Or maybe we should start selling stuff that smells like our coffee? I bet we'd make a killing off of it." Akechi chuckled lightly in response.

"You'd be a free walking advertisement as well. Your skin must be stained permanently with coffee; you smell very strongly of it."

"So now you're sniffing me when my back is turned or something?" Akira asked with a smirk of amusement. Akechi's face flushed lightly.

"I don't need to smell you. You live here, so it makes sense you'd start to smell like the cafe naturally. Simple deductive reasoning," Akechi defended himself. Akira shook his head.

"Deductive reasoning, huh? I guess you're just too smart for me, Mr. Detective."

"I'd watch your tone. I really am a detective. I've studied in Law, Forensic Science, and Criminal Psychology."

"Now I think you're just showing off. I barely made it through High School. Never bothered going to college," Akira said.

"Really? That... honestly surprises me," Akechi responded with raised eyebrows. Akira shrugged, bringing a hand up to tug at a lock of his bangs.

"I had a very complicated family situation. A lot of things happened and, well, college wouldn't have worked out for me at the time. And now I work here at Leblanc. I don't feel like I need to go back to school, though. I'm happy here." Akechi gave a wistful hum.

"It must be nice, being totally at peace with your place in life," he murmured, almost as if he hadn't meant to say it out loud, "Oh, not that I'm unsatisfied with my current field of work. I enjoy that immensely. But there is quite a bit of stress involved in my daily life."

"Thus your coffee addiction," Akira finished for him. Akechi smirked.

"I guess my sleep deprivation is to your benefit, so I doubt it matters much to you."

"It matters that you take care of yourself," Akira said more seriously, "I'd rather that than you continually buying coffee, as lovely as it is to see you." It was Akechi's turn to shake his head now.

"I honestly don't know why I'm putting up with you. The coffee is too good, I suppose."

"And here I thought you came all the way out here for my charming looks and winning smile," Akira responded, faking being offended.

"Complicated family situation, huh?" Akechi reached back to their previous topic, "That's precisely what spurred me to study harder. The best revenge is being more successful, after all."

"All that effort just for revenge? You're not the mild-mannered saint I first thought you were," Akira teased.

"If you really think that about me, you'll be in for a rough surprise," Akechi replied, smirking over his coffee cup. Akira sighed.

"By the way, just in case you were thinking of stopping by tomorrow afternoon, my boss Sojiro will be covering for me," Akira informed him, "I have to help my little sister with a school project." Akechi tilted his head in curiosity.

"I'm mostly just going to be providing adult supervision," Akira continued, "Sometimes she needs to try and figure things out on her own. She's headstrong and stubborn like that. She's a lot like me when I was her age."

"I see. That's true, some mistakes are better learned by making them yourself," Akechi agreed, "I hope her school project goes well." Akira nodded.

"It'll be fine. Futaba's extremely smart and resourceful. As I said, I'm just going to be supervising." A weird look passed over Akechi's face at the mention of Futaba's name but was gone in an instant before Akira could even guess what kind of expression it was. After a little more small chat, Akechi left Leblanc once he finished his coffee cup, though Akira liked to believe that he was reluctant to do so. Akira sighed to himself, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. His body was thrumming, and his skin was tingling. His magic was restless, boiling just beneath the surface and eager to be used. Akira hadn't felt this way in a long time. He only hoped that it wasn't an omen for things to come.

 

* * *

 

Futaba shifted uneasily in the crowded subway, a complete mess of nerves. Ann squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, standing beside her. Ann had left her luggage bag that she packed all of her sleep-over items into empty in the middle of Futaba's bedroom floor, and Futaba had a large tote bag that she was now bringing to school with her. Morgana was lying comfortably in her schoolbag, ready to infiltrate and spend the whole school day hidden with her.

'No need to freak out. I've done tons of stealth missions before. This operation will be cake. Nothing will go wrong, and everything will be fine,' Futaba told herself. The two of them walked to school like any other day and found Ryuji waiting for them on the second floor near the stairs, leaning against the corner wall. The three of them exchanged message information, with the promise that Ryuji would meet up with them after school. Futaba would bring Ryuji and Ann over with the excuse of a study group, and that Ann needed to pick up the rest of her stuff that she left over at Futaba's. Futaba promised Ryuji she'd explain the rest of the plan when school was over and they were alone. Such sensitive information needed to be kept under wraps, after all.

And then morning classes were interrupted.

There was a commotion that started with students looking and pointing out the windows, and the teachers were shouting and trying to get them to sit back down. Eventually, everyone was beginning to crowd around, trying to get a glimpse of what was going on.

"Hey, there's someone up on the school roof!"

"What is she doing up there?"

"Is that Suzui Shiho?"

"I think that she's going to jump!"

Ann was up out of her seat and running out of the classroom before Futaba could even process what was going on. Everyone was starting to funnel out of the courtyard doors, and Futaba rushed to follow Ann outside as they heard people scream.

"Shiho!" Ann cried out, pushing people out of the way. The ambulance was called, and teachers were trying to coral students back inside and away from the scene, but Ann was having none of it. It was all Futaba could do to keep up with her. As Shiho was carefully tended to by medical professionals and being loaded onto a stretcher, Ann stood trembling over her.

"I'm sorry Shiho," her voice quivering, Ann was barely holding back tears, "I'm trying to fix this. If you could have waited just a little longer... I'm so sorry. I promise you I'll fix this. Please don't leave me." Shiho was transported off the school grounds, and Ann was left standing alone in the aftermath. Teachers ushered students back to their classes, and Futaba regarded Ann hesitantly, unsure of what to do or how to respond.

"I don't care what we have to do," Ann spoke low, a cold fury in her voice, "but we're doing that ritual tonight, no matter what it takes. I'm not letting Kamoshida go another day unpunished. I swear it."

"We'll make him pay, Ann," Futaba whispered. Ann nodded, rubbing her hands over her eyes before the two of them obediently went back to class. The whole school had a charged, uneasy air as the day continued despite no progress being made at all. Futaba pet Morgana inside her desk with trembling hands, grateful for his presence. The resolve for justice was now stronger than ever. Futaba just hoped that they'd be able to find something good enough to use for the ritual tonight.

When school let out, the three of them were eager to meet up. Ryuji called his mother while they were boarding the subway. It took a long conversation to convince her to let Ryuji stay late studying, in which both Futaba and Ann got on the phone to speak with her to reassure her that, yes, Ryuji was going to actually be studying. She eventually relented on the condition that Ryuji's next test grades better be improved over his last scores.

"Man, now I'm going to really have to study to make up for tonight," Ryuji complained.

"Suck it up, this is way more important than your grades," Ann snapped back.

"I know, I know!" Ryuji grumbled. The three of them came to Futaba's house only to see Sojiro leaving.

"Eh, where are you going?" Futaba asked suspiciously. Sojiro leveled her with a deadpan look.

"I'm the one that should be asking questions here," he replied, "What's with you inviting all these people over all of a sudden? Not that I'm complaining that you've made friends, but you just had a sleep-over."

"Yeah, but Ryuji needs help studying because his grades are horrible, and asked us to help him."

"Hey!" Ryuji shouted, "My grades aren't that bad! They're a little below average, but they aren't-" Ann shoved her elbow into his stomach, cutting him off with a garbled whine escaping his mouth.

"You totally need our help, Ryuji," she corrected him.

"Yeah, I practically begged you guys to tutor me," he wheezed out, arms crossed over his stomach and slightly hunched over in pain. Sojiro raised an eyebrow.

"Well, as long as studying is all you'll be up to, I guess I don't mind it. Your grades are important, after all. I trust you to look after yourself, Futaba. I'm just covering for Akira's shift and closing Leblanc for him tonight."

"Akira's not going to be at Leblanc?" Futaba asked, genuinely shocked, "Where is he going, then?" Sojiro shrugged.

"He didn't say. Just said that it was important. I just assumed that he needed to help at his old bartending job."

"Woah, your brother is a bartender?" Ryuji asked.

"Why is that so impressive to you?" Futaba countered, "And besides that, I didn't even know he used to be a bartender until just now."

"Well, now you know," Sojiro replied, "I have to head to the cafe. Stay out of trouble you three."

"Will do!" Futaba chirped. The three entered the house, and Sojiro locked up behind them. Morgana lept out of Futaba's bag.

"That was a close one. He was pretty suspicious of you guys," he said.

"Yeah, especially when you elbowed me so hard!" Ryuji scowled at Ann.

"You were way too offended at our study group suggestion," Ann threw back.

"Because you made it all about just my grades being ass!"

"Because they are!"

"Guys, focus!" Futaba interjected. The two of them snapped their mouths shut and followed when Futaba beckoned them up the stairs.

"So, uh, how long are we supposed to wait?" Ryuji asked as they crowded into Futaba's room.

"Until it's completely dark out, I guess?" Futaba answered.

"And you still haven't told me how we're doing this. We're gonna break into the school or something?"

"I left a large bag by my desk on purpose. We're going to use Ann's luggage bag here and Morgana's transporting abilities to jump between the two." Ryuji gaped at her, mouth hanging open and eyes wide.

"Like, for real? We're gonna, uh, travel between two bags? That's what you're telling me."

"Yeah, that's what I just told you."

"Maybe we really should spend some time studying before we go," Ann murmured. The two of them chuckled at Ryuji's expense, much to his dismay.

"Alright, enough about my grades. Lay off it, will you?"

"Fine, fine. So, back to the plan. Morgana helped us get materials to make our ritual circle once we've found the object that we're gonna use, and I have those all put up in a box here underneath my bed," Futaba explained. "It's a super obvious noob spot to hide things, but we only need it just for tonight, so I figured it'd be safe enough. I also made sure to hack the school's surveillance system during lunch. I hid out in the bathroom while Ann stood watch. I set it so we'd have a good couple of hours of looped footage to cover us, so we have enough time to get in, grab what we need, and then get out and make the circle somewhere safe and not on school grounds."

"You're really badass, Futaba," Ryuji whistled, "You're like, a super high-tech witch."

"Well, yeah, I live in modern times and enjoy modern comforts just like everyone else," Futaba said sardonically. Ann giggled, thinking she looked just like her dad in that moment. All three of the Sakura family members definitely acted perfectly alike sometimes, even if they weren't technically related by blood.

 

* * *

 

"Okay, I'm going to have to guide you through one at a time," Morgana instructed once it was dark enough out that they were confident enough to leave, "More than that and I'll stretch myself too thin. Wouldn't want anyone getting stuck."

"Yeah, I'd rather not. It sounds like it'd be super shitty," Ryuji winced.

"Infinitely," Futaba replied.

"I'll go first," Ann offered. Morgana nodded.

"That's just what I'd expect from you, Lady Ann." Ann hesitantly stepped into her open luggage bag. Morgana hopped in after. The two of them just stood there for a second, but right when Ann was about to ask if she was supposed to do something, suddenly they both just... fell. Straight through the bottom, until Ann was utterly out of sight.

"Wha- Holy shit!" Ryuji cried out, looking down at the now empty bag.

"That happened right in front of me, and I still can't comprehend it," Futaba murmured, impressed. A second later, Morgana popped right back out.

"Okay, the coast is totally clear on our end. Who's next?"

"Oh hell yeah, I want to try!" Ryuji grinned. Morgana made a disapproving face at him, which was a very impressive feat for having a cat face.

"Take this a bit more seriously, will you? We're breaking into private property."

"Yeah, yeah, just work your bag magic, Mona." Morgana rolled his eyes as Ryuji stepped into the luggage with him. The two of them were quickly sucked in, and Futaba waited until Morgana poked back out for her.

"Okay, let's do this!" She hyped herself, stepping in. Morgana purred, wrapping his tail around her ankle.

"Here we go!" The actual act of transporting was over in an instant. One minute Futaba was staring out at her room, and the next all she saw was pitch black. She instinctively reached her hand out and felt someone grab onto it. Then, suddenly she was staring up at Ann and Ryuji's faces, and she was climbing out of a tote bag with Ryuji pulling her.

"Woah, that was pretty awesome," she whispered. They all grinned at each other.

"Let's get this over with and get out of here," Morgana said in low tones. They all nodded and made their way out into the hall.

"It's pretty creepy here when it's all dark, and no one is here," Ann confessed.

"Yeah," Ryuji agreed, "I don't like it."

"I have a weird feeling guys," Morgana pipped up, "I really think we need to hurry."

"What's up with you saying that? Number one rule is never to say that kind of shit! Never say you have a 'weird' or 'bad' feeling about anything," Ryuji hissed.

"Woah, Ryuji getting genre savvy over here," Futaba murmured.

"I'm serious," Morgana growled. They all jumped when a loud banging noise echoed from the first floor below them.

"Yeah, holy shit, let's go," Ryuji said, and they bolted for the doors to the walkway that led to the practice building's second floor.

"Shit, the door's locked," Ryuji cursed.

"Move over, I got this," Morgana chirped.

"What are you gonna do? You don't have hands!"

"I'm a Familiar, stupid; I can perform magic." Futaba held Morgana up, and he pressed his paws against the lock. There was a soft clicking noise, and Ann pushed the doors open. Ryuji fist pumped the air, and they all hurried over to the other side, where Morgana unlocked those doors, too. As they rounded the corner to the hall, they all noticed something eerie.

"Why is the door to Kamoshida's office wide open? And why is the light on?" Ann whispered, dread pooling hot in her stomach. Suddenly, Morgana's back arched up, and all his hair stood on end.

"Guys, we need to leave. Now!" he yelled.

"What, what's wrong?" Ann asked frantically. Futaba felt her hands grow sweaty. She started trembling but couldn't understand why. A chill settled over her body entirely, and she felt clammy and nauseous all at once. The sensations were so intense, she almost puked right then and there.

"No, you guys really don't understand, we're in incredible danger!" Morgana was practically yelling. They all froze as they heard loud, methodical footsteps echoing behind them.

"Well, well, well, what have we here? Some naughty students up to no good?" A voice drawled out slowly. Wide-eyed and fearful, Futaba turned to see Kamoshida standing at the end of the hall behind them, in front of the stairs. He held a baseball bat lazily in one hand. 'His eyes,' Futaba thought wildly, 'Oh god, his eyes look like madness. I can barely stand to look at his face.'

"It seems like I have my work cut out for me. All of you are going to have to be severely punished." A maniacal grin twisted onto Kamoshida's face.


	4. From Fear Through the Eyes of Madness (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A late-night confrontation with Kamoshida ends with a heart-stopper. Akira promises Futaba some answers but has some questions of his own that he needs answering first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter than the other ones so far, but that's only because I needed a good ending point to gear up for everything I have planned out for the next chapter. Please check the ending notes for warnings for this chapter, there are some serious ones.

 

_What is this that I feel and what is this that I fear?_  
_In these arms that whored out amongst the worms_  
 _That mate in these fields, oh_  
 _From pressure to pain I wish to stay awake_  
 _In the measure I test with your love for me_  
 _So shout against these walls, with hope that one will break free_

_So hear me  
_

* * *

 

 

"A Parasite," Morgana whispered frantically, "I don't know how, but he's become one. Kamoshida is too far gone to be saved anymore."

"What does that mean?" Futaba's voice warbled.

"Ah, my sweet little Ann. I should never have been so lenient with you," Kamoshida started to croon, "But I'll fix that right away. First, I'll need to break your legs so you can never escape. I'll keep you with me forever." His eyes turned sharply to Ryuji.

"And you, I'll have to make sure you never get in my way ever again. How does smashing your brains out all over the wall sound to you? A fitting end for a sorry dog like you, blown out all over the floor like a corpse burst full of maggots." Both Ann and Ryuji looked utterly disgusted. Kamoshida's eyes shifted to look her straight in the eyes. She felt her whole body lock up in a cold sweat of fear. She could barely force herself to breathe, like trying to suck air in and out of a straw.

"You have the stink of a Witch all over you," Kamoshida hissed, and suddenly his voice sounded gritty, like the rattling of insects, "You'll need to be disposed of, too. I can't leave any challenges to my authority left alive and unchecked." The longer Futaba stared at his face, the more Kamoshida looked less and less human to her. Shadows seemed to fall oddly, reflecting things unseen. His eyes were a sickly yellow, wide open and unnerving.

"On the count of three, we're going to run back the way we came," Morgana hissed, barely audible. Futaba swallowed.

"One," he started counting. Kamoshida chuckled softly, beginning to slowly walk towards them, dragging his bat along the floor as he went.

"Two." Kamoshida's laughter was steadily increasing in volume, and Futaba could feel her hair start to stand on end, bumps rising on her arms.

"Three!" Morgana shouted. Like a rubber band snapping, the four of them instantly bolted as soon as the word left Morgana's mouth. They raced back out onto the outdoor walkway between the main building and practice building of the school. Futaba heard a shout behind her and turned to see Ryuji had fallen right in the middle, clutching one of his legs. She was almost at the other side, Ann right behind her, and Morgana already at the glass double-door. Kamoshida burst through the one they'd just came from, hot on their tail. He eyed Ryuji with a terrifying grin splitting wide on his face. In the lighting, Futaba thought she saw Kamoshida's shadow twitching and writhing in ways it shouldn't be. Kamoshida brought his bat high over his head as Ryuji struggled to force himself up off the floor. Ann screamed. Time seemed to slow as Futaba saw the bat swing downwards, but then Kamoshida jerked wildly as a dark form slammed into him, swinging down from the roofing of the walkway.

"Get back!" cried a familiar voice, and Futaba's mouth fell open as she watched the form, who she now recognized as Akira, strike his fist down onto Kamoshida's face, his other hand holding Kamoshida down by the neck. Ryuji didn't need to be told to go; he was already scrambling up and running to reach Ann and Futaba. They all stood, shell-shocked as Akira brought his fist down repeatedly with a methodic brutality. Kamoshida screeched out a high pitched, in-human noise and lunged his arms out to knock Akira off. Akira jumped back swiftly to avoid getting hit.

"You fucking piece of shit!" Kamoshida cried out in a messed up, garbled voice, one hand clutching the side of his face, "I'll kill you! I'll kill all of you!" All of his attention was now completely locked to Akira with an intense, single-minded focus. Akira wasn't dressed in anything Futaba had ever seen him wear before; she couldn't help but notice. A long dark trench coat obscured his body, his back turned to them and facing Kamoshida. Akira flicked his wrist in a quick, practiced motion, and suddenly there was a wickedly curved knife in his right hand.

"Akira," Futaba croaked out weakly. His head turned toward her slightly, almost imperceptibly.

"I'll explain everything soon, I promise," Akira replied to her, in a calm, dark voice that barely sounded like him; it was noticeably lower and more profound than usual, "All three of you should go back inside. You shouldn't watch this."

"Like hell we will," Ryuji muttered. Futaba couldn't help but silently agree. She wasn't leaving Akira out here alone with Kamoshida. It didn't matter that she was pretty sure she'd be of no help at all. Ann was silent, but she made no move to leave either. Akira's head moved, and Futaba could tell he was shaking his head.

"Just remember, you chose to watch this," was all he whispered, before lunging forward. Futaba's breath caught as Kamoshida swung his bat blindingly fast, but Akira was faster. He ducked down at the last second, before surging upward and carving his knife straight into Kamoshida's chest. Futaba heard Ann's breath escape her mouth with a short, high pitched noise and glanced to see her hand covering her mouth, eyes wide with shock. Ryuji's mouth was hanging open.

Akira knocked Kamoshida's legs out from underneath him, throwing him to the ground. Futaba watched as Akira sliced open his own arm, blood oozing down. Kamoshida started seizing and writhing, clawing up at Akira's chest in vain. Black wings shot out of Akira's back, unfolding and stretching until the tips almost touched the ceiling. A rumbling cackle erupted from Akira's mouth, and Futaba gasped. His eyes were completely red. Akira drove his knife repeatedly through Kamoshida's chest, blood gushing everywhere onto his clothing and face until finally, he carved out a black, beating lump of flesh. Futaba felt sick, having to swallow repeatedly as saliva build up in her mouth rapidly. Blue flames leaped up, swirling over the two like a cyclone, engulfing them entirely, until all that could be seen was Akira's silhouette standing up.

Akira stepped through the flames soaked with blood but blessedly empty-handed. Futaba really couldn't have stomached seeing Kamoshida's scorched heart in his hands. The wings were now gone, and Akira's eyes turned back to their normal slate-grey. The flames died out as abruptly as they'd appeared, and all that remained where Kamoshida had been was a unidentifiable charred husk and weird symbols that were utterly scorched in a circular pattern into the floor surrounding it.

"Let's get you three home," he spoke quietly, voice devoid of emotion. He looked drained, and Futaba noticed dark circles under his eyes.

"Your arm," Futaba whispered. Akira held it up for her to see where he'd shoved his sleeve up to the elbow. The cut he'd made there was gone, a barely discernable pale line in its place. Black markings stained his arm, dancing and writhing before fading beneath his skin like they were never there.

"I'm fine," Akira replied, in a hollow tone that Futaba decided meant Akira was not okay at all.

"You promised you'd explain," she said. Akira gave a jerky nod.

"I will. Your friends need to be taken home."

"We deserve an explanation too," Ann spoke up shakily. She wouldn't stop staring at him. Futaba worried that she was afraid of him now. She herself hadn't really registered how she felt about all this yet. She felt too wired and raw. Ryuji came to stand beside Ann.

"Yeah. I want to hear it too. That was- shit. Futaba your brother just murdered our teacher! In front of us! And there was some really messed up shit going on!" Futaba watched as Akira's expression grew more tired as Ryuji kept talking.

"Let's all just get back to my house first before deciding anything," she suggested if only to keep everyone from just standing in the middle of the school. The looped surveillance would only last so long, and she'd lost track of how much time had already passed. She noticed her body shaking, and wrapped her arms around her chest to try and keep it under control. She looked up to see Akira staring, a concerned look being the first sign of emotion she'd seen him make all night. It reassured her somehow.

"Morgana," Akira called. The Familiar snapped to attention, eyes bright. Akira held out his hands and Morgana lept up into his arms. "Everyone, grab onto me." Futaba latched herself to Akira's side. Feeling him solid and real beside her comforted her, even after all that she'd witnessed. He just protected her from a man that wanted to kill her. All the rest that followed had to have been for her protection, too. It had to be, that was the only explanation Futaba would be able to stomach. Ann and Ryuji hesitated for a couple of seconds, but followed Futaba's example and reached up to grab onto Akira's arm. Futaba watched as her vision blurred and spun, and by the time she could focus her sight clearly, she recognized the familiar view of Akira's room on Leblanc's second floor. They were suddenly standing right in the middle of it. Ryuji let go of Akira's arm and hunched over making a dry heaving sound, holding still for a good few moments before straightening back up.

"You can't just turn my vision all topsy-turvy right after all the shit I've just seen, man," Ryuji complained angrily. Futaba bolted for Akira's bed and flopped down onto it, relief finally worming its way through her system. Only now could she finally allow herself to relax. Ann flopped down onto Akira's couch, slumping heavily and letting out a long, worn out sigh. Futaba could relate. Ryuji sat beside her, legs kicking out and head reclined back.

"It's late; you guys should get to bed. You still have to go to school tomorrow, after all," Akira finally spoke up. Morgana lept down from his arms and sat beside him. Futaba instantly sat up on the bed.

"You promised to explain!" She yelled.

"All of you clearly need sleep first," Akira replied back calmly, "What you went through tonight was traumatizing, to say the least. I can explain everything tomorrow after school is over, and the next day is Sunday, so you won't have to worry about school then." Akira paused, a rare moment of hesitance and vulnerability flashing on his face. "And I... I need to gather up my thoughts. Sharing this isn't going to be easy for me." Futaba forced herself to swallow down her protests. She could tell how hard this was for Akira, especially if he went as far as to admit it.

"The two of you are free to sleep here," Akira said, turning to Ann and Ryuji, "I have spare blankets and pillows. One of you can take the couch, and the other can take the floor. Futaba, you can have my bed. I still have one more thing to do."

"Hold on, where will you be sleeping?" Futaba questioned. Akira shrugged.

"Sojiro has a guest room. I'll just borrow it," he replied, unconcerned. Futaba huffed. Ryuji checked his phone, wincing at a couple of missed texts and a call from his mom.

"I have a lot of bullshitting I need to do to get out of this," he bemoaned.

"Just say you lost track of time because we've been such great tutors for you," Ann told him, eyes closed and not even bothering to look up. "And by the time you realized how late it was the trains had already stopped, so Futaba's dad graciously let you stay the night. I'm going to be taking the couch, by the way."

"Yeah, that's all well and good, but I never ignore her messages or phone calls. And who the hell decided you could just take the couch?" Ryuji retorted back.

"I decided it, just now," Ann replied shortly. Ryuji let out an angry grunt but was too tired to fight over it. He'd just bite the bullet and take the floor; he knew a losing battle when he saw one. One long phone call later, Akira had everyone situated and was ready to leave down the stairs. Futaba frowned when she noticed Morgana was going with him. She'd gotten used to Morgana's presence curled up beside her when she slept.

"Please be careful, Akira," she found herself saying. He turned to her from the stairs, grey eyes both soft and piercing at the same time.

"Goodnight, Futaba. Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" He answered, carefully dodging her words. Futaba felt her eyelids growing heavy, and she slipped away into dreams as he descended the stairs and out of her line of sight.

 

* * *

 

Akira didn't go very far. He picked the lock on the bathhouse across the street with practiced ease. He slipped inside quietly, Morgana following him.

"So you're planning on going to meet Him?" Morgana asked warily.

"It's the only thing I can do. Futaba isn't the only one with questions right now. I thought I'd already killed all the Parasites. What happened with Kamoshida shouldn't have even been possible," Akira replied, agitation clear in his voice.

"I've been keeping you updated. You know that we hadn't even done the ritual or anything."

"Yes. I'm glad you did. I don't need to think about how much worse this whole situation could have been." Akira made his way back to the open baths and started running the water. He stripped himself of his clothing methodically, mind preoccupied. Morgana sat at the edge of the bath, tail flicking back and forth. Akira turned the faucets off when the water level was high enough and grabbed his knife before sliding into the water.

"Are you sure we should do this," Morgana asked softly, eyes never leaving the knife.

"Not really. But this is the only option I have. I'm not going to let anything happen to Futaba. I will do whatever it takes to protect her," Akira replied solemnly.

"That's what I thought you were going to say." Akira held up his knife, staring at Morgana searchingly. When Morgana finally nodded after a few more seconds of hesitancy, Akira sliced the inside of his forearm open from wrist to elbow, first on his left, and then on his right as well. He let his knife fall out of his grip, arms going limp at his sides, the water he was sitting in quickly staining red. Even the steam started looking crimson. Akira slowly slid down, until he was entirely submerged. His vision tunneled, his hearing faded, and eventually, he felt himself slipping down, down, into complete nothingness. Morgana watched on, saying and doing nothing.

 

* * *

 

Akira's eyes snapped open. He was standing out in a golden wheat field, sunset bathing everything he saw in a fiery glow. He started walking, feet carrying him forward. The field eventually gave way to a crumbling, abandoned tunnel entrance. Akira trespassed inside without a second thought. The tunnel was filled with wrecked cars, crumpled and piled together in one giant clusterfuck of an accident. Akira weaved through them, continuing his way forward. The tunnel kept going, the road steadily declining down, until the cars all disappeared and the paved road turned into train tracks. It was dark, but there was always a dull red lighting covering everything in an eerie illumination.

There was a din of voices, starting as a whisper. As Akira moved forward, the whispers turned to moans, and then to wails. Pleading screams and angry curses all mashed and molded together in a discordant symphony. Akira ignored it, continuing. A cat's cry cut through the noise, clear and pure as a church bell. Akira followed the sound. The winding tracks eventually led out to a dark, misty forest. At the entrance to this forest, Morgana sat waiting, bright-eyed and silent. As soon as Akira stepped into view, he got up and turned, running into the trees. Akira could do nothing but follow.  
Through this forest, Akira wandered, until he found a door sitting in a small clearing. Morgana stood beside it. They exchanged stares before Akira opened the door and the two of them walked through. Akira walked into a circular stone room, with many doors and many hallways leading out of it. In the middle of this place, seated at a large desk, there was a hunch-backed, long-nosed man. At the sight of Akira, the man's mouth split into a wide grin.

"What a pleasant surprise," he rumbled in a unfittingly deep voice, "I see the trickster has returned. What brings you to this realm beyond reality, the thin veil hanging on the precipice of life and death?"

"Spare me," Akira snapped flatly, "I want to know what the hell you're up to. We had a deal. I killed every single one of your Parasites for you. You told me that you released me from your contract, that all the Parasites were gone and that I was free." A look of pure hatred crossed Akira's face. "You lied to me."

"Not so. You did kill all of the Parasites just as I'd asked of you. But someone has figured out a way to force people into becoming them. As you know, Parasites are the manifestation of people's darkest desires taking over their body until they have been swallowed utterly. It is a process that releases all inhibitions, inflating their warped desires to excess. It is a development that was completely independent of my own involvement," the figure explained placidly.

"That's not possible. You told me yourself that Parasites are an abomination. They shouldn't be able to exist in reality, that they're a product of this realm of damnation. A person's warped desires that gained sentience and broke through the veil to completely possess their host. I already fixed your problem for you. And now you're telling me that someone is just messing with your realm without your knowledge?" The other being chuckled at Akira's passionate rant.

"That's precisely what I'm telling you. And you're going to find out whoever is doing this and stop them. That is your role as my trickster, after all. You are the one I chose to protect the balance of reality and damnation."

"That's bullshit!" Akira roared, emotions flaring, "I've already done what you asked me to! I'm done with doing your dirty work for you!"

"Need I remind you that if ignored, the Parasites will come to find you anyways. You are their demise, and they're instinctually drawn to seek you out and try to destroy you before you destroy them. I would think that your previous dealings would have taught you to remember at least that much. If you do decide to do nothing, the safety of those around you cannot be assured." Akira physically shook with the effort it took to keep his emotions under control.

"I'm not your guardian, and I'm sure as hell not your chosen one. I told you to leave me alone!"

"I'm afraid there's nothing that you can do. The game has been set, and the die has already been cast. I wonder, what will fate decide for you, my crafty trickster?"

"I decide my own fate," Akira hissed. The being before him laughed.

"Yes, that is what you told me when we first met, too. Do you remember? I'm glad you haven't forgotten. I enjoyed your visit, trickster. And now, it is time for you to return."

"Fuck you," Akira spat, "I'm not your pawn to use and order around as you please." Akira hissed, each word seeped with venomous rage.

"You. Lied. To. Me."

"Farewell, my trickster. We will meet again soon."  Akira's vision blacked out, and for a moment, he was suspended and weightless through a sea of darkness. And then, with sharp clarity, he bolted straight up from the bathwater he'd been floating it. His scream of broken fury echoed violently off the tiled walls, while Morgana only hung his head in grief over Akira's suffering.

 

* * *

 

Futaba crouched alone. She was sure she was in a lucid dream but didn't know how to wake herself up. She really wanted to wake up. A man wrapped in a golden kimono performed a solo play in front of an audience of corpses. Futaba hid in a dusty corner of the audience's side of the amphitheater, frightened but thankfully unnoticed.

"Pitiful, isn't he?" a voice rumbled beside her. Futaba's head jerked up to see a hunch-backed man with a long nose sitting in one of the theater seats nearest to her. He was facing forward, but his head was turned just slightly, and his gaze was pinned directly onto her. Futaba couldn't bring herself to form any words in reply. Her throat felt closed off and tight when she so much as even thought of speaking.

"A truly disgusting creature," the man continued without prompting, "A Parasite, of no value to anything. Like a weed in a luscious garden, you wouldn't have a second thought about simply plucking it out and disposing of it." Futaba thought it was an incredibly twisted way of talking about real people, but continued to remain silent. She wasn't sure if she could speak even if she wanted to.

"I have no use for trash such as this. In this realm or in your realm. I am curious, however. It is rare for one such as yourself to be able to slip through the veil so easily. You truly have a gift of perception; you can see things normal beings of your realm can't. If only your dear brother shared such a thing with you. Then he wouldn't have to resort to such crude methods to come speak with me." The man chuckled as if he'd made some sort of joke. Futaba didn't think anything he'd said was funny. She barely understood it in the first place. But at the mention of her brother, Futaba finally found the strength to speak.

"How do you know my brother?" she couldn't get her voice above a whisper. The man raised an impressed eyebrow.

"So you can speak. Your brother is the only person of any realm to have ever played in a game of my own making and win against me." There was a flash of emotion across the man's face, but it was gone before Futaba could guess as to what expression he'd made. "And that's why I chose him specifically for my new game. To play the devil against a saint, another player of my own choosing. Two sides, freedom and duty, to war against each other. I'm looking forward to the outcome. Who will end up being the martyr, and who will be the Judas?" Futaba felt herself grow extremely frustrated at the man's detached ramblings. This was her brother that he was toying with!

"What gives you the right to yank my brother around like this?" she whispered, offended.

"I am the God of this world. And soon, I will be the God of yours, too. Your brother is my Devil, my Son, my beloved Trickster who punishes sinners with ruin and damnation. And I have finally found my perfect Saint, my second beloved Trickster, to judge the worthiness of my new subjects and weed out my luscious Garden. They are destined opposites, two sides of the same coin. And I will enjoy watching them destroy each other." There was a pause, and though his expression hadn't changed, Futaba sensed something dark pass over the man's face. "No one wins against me. I will watch him fall into despair, and his soul will be mine." Futaba swallowed, trying and failing to work her throat around words. She wanted to protest, to tell this creep to keep his mitts off of her precious brother, but her mouth wouldn't open.

"Now, you'll be a good girl and play your part, won't you? The last time my trickster played, he didn't have anyone so precious to him as you are. No one to protect, no weaknesses. But now, that's changed. He's much different now than when we'd first met. Such a pity." Suddenly, the gold-garbed actor snapped his gaze to look directly at Futaba. She felt herself start to tremble and break out into a sweat. She looked around and saw all the audience members, the rotting corpses with their hollowed out eyes and gaping mouths were all turned to her as well.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, my dear, but I'm afraid this must be goodbye," the man continued unfazed, steepling his fingers together. Futaba blacked out.

When she woke the next morning, Futaba felt distinctly disturbed, but when she tried to remember what she dreamt about to make her feel this way, she couldn't recall a single detail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> That graphic violence and murder tag? It's happening.  
> Gore  
> descriptions of wrist-slitting  
> a pseudo-suicide attempt  
> more cursing. F-bombs are used in this chapter so it gets special mention  
> I think that's it. Please let me know if I need to add anything else, and I'll be more than happy to.


	5. From Fear Through the Eyes of Madness (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Futaba and friends have a rather eventful morning at school and are impatient to be imparted Akira's wisdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it took so long to post this chapter! A lot of stressful things have happened to me at work recently, but I'm trying to throw myself back on schedule. I'll be trying to get the next chapter in as soon as possible to make up for it! No warnings for this chapter.

 

_So picture this face_   
_And burn it to flay_   
_To shelter it at home at the fireplace_   
_And all but memory will fade_   
_With the flick of the flame_

  
_So I have a secret_   
_That no one should know_   
_That I shouldn't tell_   
_But over the, but over the world_   
_This one won't feel_   
_This one just won't leave me well_

 

* * *

 

 

Futaba woke in the early dawn of the morning, dew still clinging to the upstairs window, looking more like a foggy mirror than an actual window. She'd managed to cocoon herself in blankets while she slept, so when she sat up the covers all came with her in a tight and overbearing embrace around her upper body. She struggled but managed to detangle after a bit of effort, and rubbed her eyes sleepily. She had woken so suddenly, at first she thought someone had come to get her up for school. But as she looked around Akira's room, she saw Ann still curled up as best as she could be on the couch and Ryuji sprawled over a thin mat on the floor with his blankets kicked all around him. They were both still asleep. Futaba noted with some amusement that Morgana had curled up on the top of the couch's backrest, sleeping comfortably over Ann like he was her protector. 

Futaba shivered, trying to figure out why she'd woken so suddenly. She felt tense with anxiety but couldn't recall a single thing she'd dreamed of to make her feel that way. Shrugging it off as best she could, she slowly moved her way off the bed and around the other sleeping occupants of the room and down the stairs. For once, she didn't feel much like sleeping anymore at the moment. She made her way down as carefully and silently as possible, not wanting to disturb the two upstairs. Futaba figured she could root around and see if there were leftovers in the fridge she could snack on.   
Reaching the bottom floor, she paused as she saw Akira sitting at one of the barstools. It didn't look like he'd noticed her yet, and she was a bit shocked at just how... tired he looked. He was hunched over and staring blankly down at a cup of coffee, and Futaba couldn't see any steam coming off of it, so she guessed he'd been sitting up for a long time. In the stark grey morning light coming from the storefront glass door and windows, Akira looked so wane and pale. The dark purpling underneath his eyes signaling that he hadn't gotten any sleep the whole night. Futaba thought his eyes even seemed slightly bloodshot. 

"Akira?" she called out to him hesitantly. He looked like he'd break apart at the seams if he moved even a single inch. He blinked and ran a hand over his face before turning to her. 

"Ah, what are you doing up this early?" he asked, voice low and soft. It sounded a little strained like he'd overused his vocal cords. Futaba frowned.

"I could ask you the same thing. Did you even go to sleep last night?" Akira gave a dry chuckle, and it sounded hollow to Futaba's ears.

"I couldn't. Too much on my mind."

"You really should have tried to sleep, though."

"Now you sound like Morgana. He only let it slide this once so he could go upstairs with you guys. Besides, he understood why I couldn't." Akira looked down and became quiet. Futaba swallowed, and Akira gave out a sigh and brought his eyes to meet hers again.

"And don't think you're getting off the hook for not telling me you were planning on breaking into your school," Akira warned. Futaba winced and wrung her hands together. "I understand that you felt helpless and that you thought it was your only option. But you know that I care about you and trust you. You could have come to me. There wasn't any need for all of this sneaking around my back." There was a thread of hurt in his voice that he couldn't entirely hide, and it made Futaba's heart clench. The last thing she wanted Akira to think was that she didn't trust him.

"You'll have to come straight home from school for a week, and Ann and Ryuji aren't allowed to come over during that time either. Sojiro was starting to get concerned about you. Of course, he's happy that you made friends, but it was honestly way too suspicious." There was an edge of a smirk on Akira's face, and Futaba didn't think she'd ever feel so relieved to see it. Akira wasn't actually mad, but Futaba still felt guilty all the same. The punishment wasn't really a punishment either since she never went anywhere anyway. Futaba supposed it was more so Akira could keep his eyes on her. She could understand that too, after what had happened last night. 

"So, is there anything else that you need to tell me? Or is my awkward pseudo-parenting session over?" 

"No, that's all, I promise," Futaba reassured him hastily. Then, she hesitated before saying, "But, I feel like I might have had a weird dream? I woke up all anxious and nervous- I dunno. Can't remember it." Futaba rubbed her eyes and shrugged. A soft smile formed on Akira's face, making him look a little less worn. Futaba was still worried as hell about him, though. 

"C'mere, I'll heat up some curry for you." He stood from his spot at the counter and took his coffee cup with him, dumping the nearly full contents casually out in the sink in the back. Futaba side-eyed him as if possessed by Sojiro's spirit, judging him silently for being wasteful. "You shouldn't need to start getting ready for school for a little while longer. You woke up early; I'm impressed."

"It wasn't like I planned to be up or anything," Futaba grumbled, hopping up on the stool nearest to where Akira was preparing more coffee. There was a sweet little blend that Futaba loved when Akira made for her, to compliment how raging hot she liked her curry. Sojiro praised her exceptional taste for curry spices and despaired her over-sweetening of his coffee in equal measure. Futaba just supposed he'd get over it eventually. 

"So, how did you know we were at the school last night anyway?" Futaba asked. Akira gave her a flat look.

"Morgana told me, of course. We can't keep secrets from each other; we're magically bonded. And he was worried about you besides. He was afraid of what could have gone wrong if the ritual messed up."

"Ugh, I should have known..." Futaba mumbled. 

"He can't use magic without me knowing, after all. Familiars act as conduits and amplifiers to the magic their hosts channel them. They have their own magic and capabilities, but they're much more powerful when using their host's magic. That's what makes them Familiars; bonds make them stronger. Morgana's specialty is travel, explicitly getting from point A to point B as quickly and efficiently as possible, and his chosen method is bags. However, last night he used my magic for himself when we left the school, which is why we were able to travel instantaneously. Our bond is strong, and my magic is potent, which amplifies his abilities even more. It's like lots of stat bonus multipliers stacking on top of each other." Futaba gave a wide-eyed look of understanding and an enthusiastic nod of her head. Akira gave her a lop-sided smile.

"I'm trying to be a little more open about how everything works. I do realize I've been unfair in all of this, when I've been keeping secrets from you, too." Futaba rubbed her own arm.

"Well, I mean, they were super deep personal secrets for you, though. I still want to know; it's just, it wasn't as important before? And it upset you to think about it." Akira frowned as he fixed her coffee cup and turned to take food containers out of the fridge.

"Maybe, if I hadn't been so stubborn about explaining everything, you would have been better prepared. You would have known the significance of Parasites and just what they're capable of. We got off exceptionally easy last night because it seemed Kamoshida was still in his early stages. He hadn't been transformed for very long; I could tell that much. He might have even tipped over into becoming a Parasite that very evening before your planned break-in. He was out of control and sloppy. Parasites are usually very calculated in their madness. They know how to get away with their destruction."

"So you've dealt with people like Kamoshida before? Parasites?" Futaba questioned hesitantly. 

"Yeah. They're scum. Worse than scum, even. Twisted murderers with no motive other than the thrill and chaos of it. The very worst of who they used to be as humans, twisted and turned into a living shadow imprinted in their minds with all inhibition removed. Parasites are too far gone to be reasoned with, all they care about is getting what they crave. Above all else, Parasites desire the destruction of the people around them."

"The things Kamoshida was talking about doing last night to Ann and Ryuji," Futaba whispered, a shiver running through her despite holding her steaming coffee mug, "it was disgusting."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Akira whispered back, and there was a deep aching in his voice and a small grain of regret. Futaba could guess that Akira had never wanted her ever to encounter anything like Kamoshida as long as she lived.

"And what about all the stuff you did to him? With all the fire? You grew wings and knifed his heart out." Futaba curled her knees up to her chest as Akira fixed her a plate of curry and set it down in front of her.

"My brand of magic is contracts," he stated simply, "and what you saw was one of the beings contracted to me. I have somewhat of a similarity to Familiar magic. I grow stronger with bonds, too. I can channel the energy of the closeness I share with others to make powerful contracts with other beings, namely demons. They lend me their power when I call upon them, in exchange for letting them consume the soul of the Parasite I kill. That was why I took out his heart. Arsene likes to consume his victims in fire. He's got a flair for the dramatic."

"I can see why he's one of your contracts, then," Futaba mumbled under her breath. Akira chuckled.

"He's the very first demon I contracted. It was in a desperate situation and mostly out of necessity on my part, but I got fortunate with him. Not all demons are as forgiving as he was of me. We share a connection much like the one I have with Morgana; he's been contracted to me for almost as long as Morgana has been my Familiar. I suppose he's come to care for me; as much as a demon can care about a human, I guess."

"You really have contracts with demons? Isn't that stuff kind of..." Futaba's face screwed up with worry, "I mean, you won't get eaten or possessed or anything, will you?" 

"You don't have to worry about me, the bonds that feed the contracts that I have are unbreakable, I wouldn't make deals on them otherwise. It ensures the demons on the other end are entirely loyal to me. It's everyone else I have to worry about. Just because they're faithful to me and my well being, doesn't mean my demons will extend that loyalty to anyone that I'm close to. It's up to them whether they want to honor the bonds I have with others they have no concern for." Futaba swallowed down the mouth-full of curry she'd been chewing nervously.

"There's more to this that I'm not telling as well, but I promised I'd explain when you three get back from school. I'll leave it at that for now," Akira sighed. Heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs, and Ryuji popped out from them.

"What's going on down here? I woke up and smelled something super delicious!" he exclaimed. Futaba narrowed her eyes at him.

"Keep your voice down; it's too early for you to be so loud."

"I've heated up some curry I made last night if you want that for breakfast," Akira spoke up before Ryuji could respond to Futaba. "I also have eggs, or milk and cereal. It's Futaba's Featherman cereal, though, so you'll have to ask her to let you eat that."

"He can eat that cereal over my dead body," Futaba pipped up.

"I guess I'm not doing that, then," Ryuji grumbled, sitting beside Futaba at the counter. "I'll just have the curry."

"Excellent choice, my friend," Futaba grinned. Ann followed down the stairs after a little while longer, looking only slightly better than she had the night before. Futaba knew she must be going through a rollercoaster of emotions at the moment. Futaba startled when she marched right up to Akira, who in reaction had stood up straight and folded his hands into his pockets casually. To everyone's surprise, she bowed to him right at the waist.

"Thank you for saving us!" She said in a slightly raised and somewhat nervous voice, "And thank you for avenging Shiho for me!" Akira gave a breathy chuckle as if he couldn't believe he was being thanked.

"There's no need to bow. A simple thank you is fine. I wasn't going to let anything happen to you guys," Akira told her smoothly. Leave it to Akira to be nonplussed about all this, Futaba thought.

"Here, sit and eat. You all need it. Last night must have been rough for you. But it's over now, and Kamoshida isn't going to hurt you ever again," Akira spoke calmly, directly to Ann. She gave him a small nod, eyes watery, and sat down next to Ryuji. Akira served her a plate with a honed barista's hospitality. 

"Is it wrong for me to feel like he got what he deserved?" Ann asked as she looked down at her plate, not eating yet. Ryuji shrugged his shoulders.

"I dunno. You and I went through different levels of harassment from that asshole, so I can't speak for you. But, after all the shit Kamoshida was saying last night..." Ryuji grunted and gave a frustrated sigh. "I dunno, man."

"If it makes you feel any better, Akira said he was past the point of no return by the time we saw him," Futaba spoke up, her plate almost empty.

"What does that mean?" Ryuji turned to her. Akira let Futaba do the explaining this time around as he cleaned up after himself. 

"And, I have something to confess," Futaba told the two of them sheepishly, "When I told you guys I was a witch, I lied. Akira is the witch. Mona is his Familiar, not mine." Ryuji gave her a look of surprise, and Ann just shrugged.

"It doesn't change anything," Ann commented. 

"I just thought I should clear it up for you. I didn't want to lie, but I didn't want to blab Akira's secret for him."

"That's perfectly understandable," Ann agreed.

"There's no point in keeping it secret now. There's a lot I'll need to tell you guys. For now, I need to ask you to stay on your guard. Ride to school with each other as much as possible. Stay together," Akira warned them. Ryuji gulped audibly.

"Whats with this ominous shit all of a sudden?" Ryuji asked. Akira only shook his head.

"Later."

"Ugh," Ryuji groaned, "Now I'll be thinking about it all day. Hey, aren't witches supposed to be a female thing? Aren't you supposed to be, like, a wizard?" Futaba snorted with laughter.

"I'm not letting Akira go around calling himself a wizard. It sounds stupid." Futaba waved her hands in front of Akira's face.

"Yer a wizard, Akira," she said in her best British accent. Akira cracked an amused grin, and Ann started to laugh. 

"Witch just sounds cooler anyways," Ann agreed, "Witches are just better." Futaba nodded sagely. Ryuji rolled his eyes. Akira shook his head.

"I didn't come up with it," was all he said. Ann went to the bathroom first to freshen up and make it look like she hadn't skipped bathing in two days, and Futaba followed after. Ryuji took significantly less time, merely washing his face.

"No one will be able to tell the difference from your usual self," Ann teased, and Ryuji glared at her.

"At least I didn't take almost an hour," he retorted back. When they were about ready to go, Akira let them out the door with a final reminder that they should stick together. They all agreed with him and headed off to school together.

"He looked kind of sick," Ryuji commented while they were on the subway.

"Yeah, when I woke up and came downstairs, he was just sitting by himself in the dark staring at his coffee. He made himself a cup, but I don't think he touched any of it. I don't even think he went to sleep last night," Futaba confessed.

"Dude, do y'think he got messed up 'cause of the thing he did last night? Y'know, with the-" Ryuji paused and looked around before discreetly doing cutting motions over his wrists in an imitation of what Akira had done.

"He summoned a demon," Futaba whispered low to them. 

"What? For real?" Ryuji exclaimed.

"Would you not shout?" Ann hissed. Some people had glanced their way, but it seemed they'd been largely ignored. Ryuji rubbed the back of his head and apologized.

"He makes contracts with demons, and they let him use their powers," Futaba whispered further. Ryuji whistled, and Ann blinked.

"Wow, that sounds badass," Ryuji mumbled.

"I guess. Depends on the demon," Ann said wisely. Futaba nodded.

"I'm just super concerned about him." When they all made it to school, the three of them tensed as they saw police checking everyone coming in the gates. Ryuji cursed.

"What are the police doing here?" 

"Might be because Kamoshida is a burnt husk on school grounds?" Ann replied sarcastically, "The staff that opened the school this morning must have found the body and reported it. I wonder if they know it's Kamoshida yet? You can't tell just by looking at it, but he won't be at school today, so..." Ryuji shivered and shook his head.

"Dude, you're so chill about this."

"I told you already; I think he deserved it," Ann muttered darkly. 

"I'm not arguing with you; I'm just saying," Ryuji defended himself.

"More importantly," Futaba butted in, "You guys have to be calm and act natural. No acting suspicious or anything. There's no way to link back to us, so as long as we don't draw attention, they'll never be able to figure it out. Police are useless when it comes to occult matters, after all."

"Man, now it's kind of funny, thinking about them looking at those weird symbols Akira burnt into the walkway and trying to figure out what happened," Ryuji said. Ann grinned, but then a slow look of horror came over her face.

"Wait, Futaba. Your camera! The one you left in Kamoshida's office!" she exclaimed.

"Oh shit!" Futaba and Ryuji yelped at the same time. 

"Don't worry about that," Futaba's bag mumbled.

"Oh shit!" All three of them jumped. Futaba quickly unzipped the top, and Morgana's head popped out.

"Akira took care of that last night. We went back and got it after I told him about it."

"Dude, you scared the shit outta me," Ryuji growled, swatting Morgana's head. He earned a hiss in return. 

"Don't hit me, you big doofus!"

"More importantly, what are you doing coming to school with me?" Futaba asked.

"Duh, I'm watching over you. Akira asked me to."

"That seems a bit excessive," Ann said, "Kamoshida is gone, after all." Morgana shook his head.

"Oh boy, there's a lot more going on than you guys know. Kamoshida isn't going to be the only Parasite. There'll be more."

"More, what do you mean by that!" Ryuji yelled. Ann swatted his head just like Morgana.

"Keep it down, idiot!" Morgana darted back down into Futaba's bag as they approached the gates. Ann gave her most friendly smile and waved to the two police officers standing out front. They nodded to the three of them.

"We just need to check your bags before entering the grounds, just a standard search. Nothing for you students to worry about," one told them pleasantly. Ryuji frowned but was smart enough not to say anything as Ann gave him a subtle glare. They all opened their schoolbags for the officers, and Futaba almost panicked before remembering Morgana could travel through bags. She opened it up, and though she shouldn't have worried, still felt cool relief when her schoolbag was blessedly cat-free. The officers let them in without further incident, warning them to go straight to their classes and not loiter around the halls. 

"Do I have to be suspicious of everybody now?" Ryuji complained lowly to the two of them as they entered. 

"Not everybody. I'm sure there'll be warning signs. For instance, if they're as huge of an asshole as Kamoshida was," Futaba reassured him, "People I'm sure we'd spot from a mile away."

"Advanced Parasites know how to mask their true selves," Futaba's bag whispered. Ryuji visibly flinched.

"Seriously, Mona, you're freaking me out." Futaba's bag cackled quietly.

"C'mon, we should get to class. As Futaba said, we shouldn't draw attention to ourselves," Ann urged them. They all climbed the stairs to the second floor. The doors leading to the outside walkway to the Practice Building was tapped off and guarded by another duo of officers. The view was sufficiently blocked that they couldn't get a look at what the walkway beyond looked like through the glass doors without seeming super suspicious and nosey. Probably don't want any delicate high schoolers seeing a burnt up body, Futaba thought to herself. The three parted ways, and Futaba and Ann entered their class and took their seats. Class began shortly after with an announcement from their Homeroom teacher.

"Morning classes have been canceled for today. Students are being divided into groups, and an investigator will individually interview everyone." A student raised their hand and spoke up.

"Kawakami-sensei, what happened to the Practice Building? Why is it roped off?"

"I can't answer that," Kawakami sighed tiredly, "all I can say is, there was evidence of vandalism." Hushed whispers erupted through the classroom. 

'Vandalism? That's all they're saying right now?' Futaba thought to herself. Then again, it was a good tactic. Only dangle in a little information, hoping that someone will let something slip that wasn't previously stated. The original scene was much heavier than just vandalism, so there'd only be muted reactions from people who didn't know the full details. It was obvious from Kawakami's expression that she was bothered that the other students didn't seem to be taking the process seriously. But then again, it's preferable to the mass hysteria of saying a body was found.

"Interviewed by investigators? Do you think that Detective Goro Akechi will be at the school?" The girl sitting beside Futaba in the next row over sighed.

"You really think they'd get someone as high profiled as Detective Akechi to work on a school vandalism case?" her friend gossiped back to her, "I doubt it."

"I don't care; I hope I get to meet him in person," the other girl continued dreamily. Futaba rolled her eyes. Who the heck was 'Detective Akechi'? Some famous cop? Not that a shut-in like Futaba would know anything about that. She did her best to ignore the other students' idle chatter. 

"Students are grouped by each row in their Homeroom class, so you'll be called in row by row and then separated individually. In the meantime, all teachers have prepared worksheets for students to work on for the morning for each subject. You should take this time to be as productive as possible," Kawakami instructed. The class groaned collectively. 

"Boring," Morgana yawned quietly from inside her desk. Futaba silently agreed. If they were going row by row, at least that means that Ann was in her group. Not that it meant anything if they were being questioned individually. After a long time of doodling absently in the margins of her worksheet, Futaba looked up when she heard the classroom door slide open. 

"I'm here for the next group, Kawakami-sensei," a stern-looking student said.

"Alright, first-row stand," Kawakami instructed. Futaba and everyone else in her row stood up. "You'll be following the Student Council President Niijima to the Student Council room in an orderly manner and quietly wait your turn." They all filed out, and Niijima stood beside the doorway and watched all of them exit into the hall. She directed everyone up the stairs to the third floor. Everyone was ushered into the library, except the first person in their row, who was set aside to be 'interviewed' first. Futaba and Ann sat at a table together to wait. 

"I hope Ryuji is doing okay," Ann murmured, "He's not exactly great with this kind of stuff." Futaba snorted.

"We'll just have to wait and see, I guess," was all Futaba could say. After a few minutes passed, Niijima walked around the room to question how everyone was doing. When she got to where Ann and Futaba were sitting, she paused. 

"You're Futaba Sakura, correct?" she asked formally. Futaba nodded her head. "Yes, you just started here. I have to apologize. Normally the school is very welcoming. And then we had to have an incident just a few days after you came here."

"Ah, it's no big deal. It's not the school's fault that people, what was it, broke in and did vandalism or something? I was having a good time so far, so I'm not too worried," Futaba replied, looking down at the table. Except that everything was the school's fault for letting Kamoshida do whatever he wanted. But she kept that to herself.

"I'm relieved that you've liked the school so far. I'm Student Council President Makoto Niijima. Please, if you ever need anything or just want to talk to someone, you can come to me at any time."

"Wow. Uh, thanks. I'll keep that in mind," Futaba replied a little awkwardly. Futaba wondered how much she knew about the 'vandalism'. Did anybody ever come to her about being harassed by Kamoshida? If so, did Niijima even care? Or did she felt just as powerless as Ann did with Shiho? Futaba didn't dare to ask these things out loud. It would probably look suspicious as hell, besides. Even if they didn't know it was Kamoshida's body out there, surely they'd look into why he wasn't at school today, and figure out he was missing in short order after that. Ann sat with her chin resting on the palm of her hand, looking bored and unimpressed. 

"And I'm glad you've already made a friend," Niijima continued. "I'll leave you guys now; I just wanted to check up on everyone." With that, she left as curtly as she had come. Ann sighed.

"Claiming to be on the side of the students, but having to report to the faculty seems a little two-faced, doesn't it? Acting friendly and checking up on people and then ready to turn around and report anyone suspicious," Ann started quietly.

"I dunno her well enough to tell if she's being sincere or not," Futaba shrugged. She'd rather save her judgment until she knew Niijima better. "Being in that position must be stressful, especially if she does genuinely care about the students. I mean, even with her status, she's still only just as influential as we would have been if we tried to say anything about Kamoshida. In the end, the school would have just kicked her down and shut her up, figuratively speaking." Ann went silent after that, contemplating Futaba's answer. Eventually, Ann had to leave to be 'interviewed', and then when she came back, had to wait on Futaba, who was directly next in line. Niijima motioned for her to follow, and just took her out of the library and turned her towards the room right next to it. Futaba felt a little disappointed it wasn't anything more special than that, like a secret room behind a fake door or something. 

"Just try and relax and try not be too nervous. You don't have anything to worry about," Niijima spoke to her kindly. Futaba mentally chuckled. If only she knew. Futaba stepped inside to see a familiar brunette man with his head bent down looking over notes. His long hair was tied in a formal high ponytail instead of the casual low over-the-shoulder he had in Leblanc.

"Oh, you're that guy Akira flirts with," she blurted without thinking. The man's head shot up, his mouth parted slightly in shock, eyes wide. It even looked like his pupils dilated a bit. First few seconds of the interview and Futaba already caught her investigator off-guard. Futaba mentally high-fived herself.

"Ah," it seemed to take a few moments for the man to collect himself, "I'm sorry, I don't quite know what you're talking about. But," he paused, "Oh! You're from Leblanc." 

"Yeah. The barista is my older brother," Futaba informed him. She casually went over and sat down across from the detective at the table, assuming that's where she was going to be told to sit anyways. The man nodded at her.

"Yes, he has mentioned you before. I didn't want to assume anything..." he trailed off, hand briefly going to his chin. Maybe it was some involuntary tick for him or something? Futaba also noticed that the detective had avoided completely responding to her flirting remark. 

"I was there two days ago; he told me he was closing early yesterday to help you with a school project. How did that go, if I may ask?" Futaba blinked, feeling a little blind-sided. Akira said what now? And then it clicked. Akira closed the shop early to watch over her break into the school. Futaba gave a reflexive wince. He did all of that to be ready to help her. She managed to feel even worse about not coming to Akira than she did before. The detective evened the score with that one.

"Ah, I completely messed up. Akira had to help me out a lot," Futaba responded truthfully. The detective chuckled. 

"Well, he did say you were stubborn. Some mistakes you have to experience for yourself is what I told him."

"I guess," Futaba grumbled. She'd rather have skipped this mistake, honestly. The detective clapped his hands together softly.

"Well, now to move on what we're here for. My name is Detective Goro Akechi, and I'm a forensic investigator with the police department. It's a pleasure to meet you, Sakura-san." He held out a gloved hand to shake. Futaba returned the gesture hesitantly.

"Yeah, I'm Futaba Sakura. I'm sure you knew that already. Nice to, uh, meet you." Akechi smiled.

"No need to be nervous. I'm here to protect your school and your safety." Futaba almost rolled her eyes at the obviously canned statement.

'No wonder Akira likes you, you're fake as hell,' Futaba thought, 'It's always the weird hard to get types he's interested in. I bet he tries to get the super special secret ending romance on the first playthrough.'

"Now, I know there was a suicide attempt yesterday," Akechi spoke softly, and Futaba was honestly impressed at how smoothly he said it, "And it must be hard for everyone right now, but I need you to think back and tell me if you noticed anything suspicious. Anyone who was talking badly about the school, or its faculty? Maybe Coach Kamoshida in particular?"

'He's really going in hard with this,' Futaba thought, 'I bet Ryuji got his ass drilled. Everyone knows he hates Kamoshida. I really hope he didn't say anything stupid.'

"I didn't notice anything like that in particular," Futaba replied carefully, "but I did notice a lot of volleyball players looking really beat up? Like, a suspicious amount of injuries going on. Oh!" Futaba hit her fist in her hand as if she'd made a startling connection, "Are you secretly investigating Shiho's suicide attempt? Because I think something was going on there." Futaba knew that the police didn't care about a single student's suicide attempt, but she hoped she at least made Akechi feel guilty about it. Take that!

"Hmm, there could be some connection," Akechi ruminated aloud, "You've made an interesting point. The girl that came in before you, Takamaki-san, she was adamant that Suzui-san was pushed to suicide by outside forces." Futaba should have known that Ann would take the same route she did. Anything to turn this investigation back around to all the cover-up the school did with Kamoshida's actions. It wouldn't amount to anything, Futaba was sure, but at least they tried. 

"The two of you have made some interesting contributions that I'll have to look further into. But, there is one more thing I'd like to ask you before I let you leave," Akechi spoke in a faux-apologetic voice. Futaba shrugged her shoulders. 

"Sure." Akechi dug through his folder of notes and pulled out a blown-up photograph. 

"I would like to ask you if you recognize any of these symbols." He laid the photograph out in front of her on the table. Futaba recognized the scene in the picture as the Practice Building walkway. She hadn't gotten a good look at what Akira had done since they left the school in such a hurry, but she immediately recognized it. There were symbols scorched in circular and triangular patterns around a profoundly charred patch of the walkway. Where Kamoshida's corpse had burned, Futaba presumed. Even just looking at the stain made her insides feel cold.

"I don't think I've ever seen anything like this before," Futaba replied, which was technically accurate since she hadn't gotten a good look at them last night. 

"I was hoping I could get more information on them. The symbols bare a striking similarity to other markings I've encountered before for cases I've worked on previously. But it could be just a prankster or copycat as well," Akechi mused to himself, "Very well. You're free to go, Sakura-san. Thank you for your help today." Futaba once again shrugged. She knew she hadn't been any help at all, in fact.

"If you say so," she said before departing. The rest of the school day was a complete wreck, between everyone in the school being questioned, and then anxiously waiting for evening classes to end to run back home to Akira. Futaba was eager to finally learn more about what he'd done before she knew him. Luckily, she had Morgana in her desk to keep her company until school let out. Ryuji met up with her and Ann, and they must have made a record for fastest trip from Shujin to Leblanc. Akira had a lot of explaining to do, and they wanted to hear every word of it.


	6. Once Upon Your Dead Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira's unfortunate first meeting with a being from another realm and the beginning of his sordid past unfurls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I took such a long break from the story. I feel so bad about it. But I'm back and trying to get myself motivated. I have no intentions of abandoning this story! It's my baby, and I love it, even though I know it isn't perfect. Maybe one day I'll try and go over and rework it or something. But for now, I'm going to keep forging on ahead until I complete everything I want to write! I hope you all enjoy this latest installment and keep enjoying what I have to offer. I'll just keep on writing. See ending chapter notes for warnings.

 

 _If hello could only drop it's 'o'_  
_And it stayed in the front doors way_  
_Of your home, would you live there still?_  
_Could that make you everything I hate?_  
_Wait_

_Is there price to burn this paradise  
Where you left all parts that hurt to mend_

_Do you remember why you did it? (No I don't)_

_No, I hope you die right now,  
Will you drink my chemical?_

 

* * *

 

 

Leblanc was silent as Futaba, Ryuji, and Ann entered. That fact alone wasn’t too unusual, but as the three crossed the café to the attic stairs, Sojiro remained eerily silent. Futaba’s brow creased with worry as she noticed that he didn’t even so much as glance up in their direction as they passed him, uttered not a single word. It made an uncomfortable lump of anxiety sink within her stomach. As they all entered Akira’s room, her anxiety grew as Futaba took in Akira’s form perched sitting on the edge of his bed. His elbows rested on his knees, and his chin lay heavy over steepled fingers, eyes staring unseeingly into the floor. His eyes snapped up to them as the three approached, steely and sharp. Morgana lept out of Futaba’s school bag to curl up on the bed beside him.

“If you’re worried about Sojiro,” Akira started, “he’ll be fine. He just needs some more time to process what I’ve told him. He knew the most about my situation save for only one other person, but I decided it was time to come completely clean to him as well. Some of the information was hard for him to swallow. For you three, we’re going to start out small first. Just the beginning is enough. How I met Morgana, my contract with Arsene… and my first Parasite encounter.”

“Shit, this is intense,” Ryuji swallowed as he sat on Akira’s couch. Ann and Futaba followed.

“You wanted to know,” Morgana chastised him, “You can’t chicken out now. You know too much. We’d have to… silence you.” Ryuji choked.

“What the hell, you’re joking right?” he yelled. Morgana only chuckled. Akira’s serious expression never wavered, and it was enough to get Ryuji sweating.

“Don’t be dumb,” Futaba murmured.

“Just let him talk,” Ann shushed Ryuji, grabbing a spare blanket that was still laying discarded on the floor from the morning and bundling herself with it. Futaba stared at Akira’s comforter with a pouty expression until he caved and some of his icy disposition cracked a little. He relinquished his bedding to her with a small, soft smile that relaxed Futaba a little.

“It goes without saying that none of what I’m about to share with you will ever leave this attic. Not a word, not a single breath of it can be spoken outside. Do you understand?” Akira asked them all, tone grave. All three students nodded wordlessly. Akira let out a deep sigh.

“Very well. There’s no point stalling anymore, so I’ll start right at the beginning. The exact moment I’d been dragged into this mess all started around two years ago when I committed suicide and died for the first time…”

 

* * *

 

 

Akira’s vision swam as he lay face up on the floor of his cramped one-room apartment. It was barely a decent living space, clean only by the virtue that Akira didn’t own enough possessions ever to have clutter. The only trash being the scattered empty pill bottles that lay next to him on the floor.  He’d grabbed anything and everything he could find and even bought a few things from the convenience store he worked part-time at. One of his many jobs that still only barely helped keep him afloat. There wasn’t any point to going back to any of it. Akira knew that his employers barely tolerated him due to the stain on his criminal record. His assault charge and arrest… If Akira could have some payment for all the times he’d ever been lectured that if he stepped one toe out of line, he’d be fired on the spot, well, he wouldn’t even need his jobs.

‘None of that bullshit matters anymore,’ Akira thought to himself, ‘All of that fighting and struggling I did to keep my freedom and independence, I can’t find a single reason to continue with it.’ Akira had no friends, no family. He’d been disowned by his parents after his arrest, and there was no point in staying in his hometown when no one would speak or associate with him. They shunned him, so he’d moved because he had no other choice. Straight out of high school he’d gotten the first shitty affordable place he could find and any shitty job that would take him. None of his previous academic achievements mattered when his record was full of fights with bullies to compliment his assault charge, painting him as a violent individual with anger issues. No college would accept him; he was entirely sure of that.

Akira still couldn’t find it in himself to wish anything had happened differently. He couldn’t stop himself from helping people being oppressed and abused in front of him. Bullies on the playground, teachers in the classroom, drunken men on the streets, corrupt police officers giving him rigged interrogations, he would fight all of them if it meant he could protect those weaker than himself. It was an undeniable part of him that he would never be able to change. His parents could never understand that, tried so hard to force him through counseling and their harmful parenting tactics. Nights he was starved for acting out at school or locked out of the house for not coming home before curfew. Insults and verbal abuse for every fault that his parents saw in him like it was a personal insult that he was anything but what they wanted him to be. If he didn’t bring honor and prestige to their family, he was worthless. It would have been better if he’d never been born in the first place, was the last thing they’d ever said to him, right after he’d been arrested. He learned from his government-appointed lawyer that they’d disowned him. They didn’t even have the decency to say it to his face.

It’s been six years since then, and he still hasn’t escaped the consequences of that night. It was as if he’d been marked, doomed to be struck down if he ever managed to pick himself up high enough. It was frustrating, and Akira could only take so much of it before he finally broke down. And the saddest thing was there was no one to care that he would be gone forever. Maybe one or two co-workers would be concerned if he never showed for his shifts, but in the customer-service industry, people came and went quickly. They would barely miss him before they’d move on to the next person that would take his place. There was no reason to write a note; there wasn’t anyone worth explaining himself to. He had no one to pass any of his possessions to and no properties worth passing down even if he did. No money to his name, nothing. All he is and ever was, it was just Akira as himself. Nothing more and nothing less.

Akira’s thundering pulse slowed down to a crawl as he lay there, just waiting to die. Pathetic, merely counting the seconds until his heart finally gave up. And just like that, he slid silently into darkness. No warning, and no sound. Simply gone.

It came as a severe shock when Akira found himself waking up to awareness. He jolted up violently, eyes darting around frantically as he took in his surroundings. He was in a wheat field that seemed to stretch for miles, no end in sight. The stalks were chest high and bathed in the golden light of a dying sunset. The sky was cloudless, and there was only a whispering of wind, a playful and beckoning tug. Akira stood in confusion. Why was he here? Was he dead? He would have preferred just never to have woken up ever again. Awareness in this endless realm of nothing was pure torture. He had nothing else to do but pick a direction and walk.

Time was a nebulous concept here, as it seemed the sun was no closer to completely disappearing beneath the horizon as when Akira first woke. A state of perpetual twilight. Akira had no way of telling any passage of time, couldn’t even begin to guess how long he’d been wandering. Just as Akira wondered if there was a point to him continuing to move forward, he blinked, and his whole environment changed without his knowledge.

He was standing on a deserted road, a tunnel or underpass of some sort, cement all around him and pavement underneath his feet. Wrecked cars and twisted metal stretched down as far as he could see in the darkness, the only illumination being the flickering underpass lights. Akira picked his way forward, careful to avoid stumbling into any of the dangerous metal carnage. All he could see behind him was darkness, but there were lights still on going forward, so that’s where he decided to go. Unease grew in the pit of Akira’s stomach as the road seemed to slowly but surely incline downward, becoming less paved as he progressed on. The lights appeared to be shifting from yellow to red steadily, and Akira swore he could make out train tracks starting to take shape in the dim lighting.

Akira began to sweat as he heard low murmurs starting to filter along the edges of his hearing. He stopped to listen and look around, straining to figure out where the noise was coming from. But it was all around him, surrounding him with no discernable source in sight. He quickly starts moving forward again, faster now than he’d been doing before. The murmurs only became louder as he progressed, at first barely audible but soon Akira could hear enough to tell it was multiple voices of pained sound, wails, and moans blending. Akira moved faster in response. By the time the clamor had risen into terrifying screams, Akira had broken into a run. The tunnel twisted and turned in its continued descent, and the overhead lights were glaring crimson, and train tracks carved and spiraled on the ground and walls with no identifiable pattern or reason.

Just when Akira thought he would pass out from how loud the cries around him had become, when he’d reached the absolute limit to withstand such terrible pleas and begs, it stopped so suddenly Akira feared he’d gone deaf. In that same moment he’d blinked, and then he saw nothing around him but grey fog and trees. Akira shivered in the silence, gasping in relief from the pressure. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. What was this place? Akira forced himself to continue forward. There was a violent surge of emotion within him, a need to escape this situation. His whole being rejected being here, wherever this was. Akira continued his trek through this odd, misty forest, eyes looking for anything that might signal another area transmission. He didn’t like the jarring environment changes.

Eventually, Akira saw the fog taking a blue glow in one direction, and he followed it all the way to an embellished blue door, standing by itself in the middle of nowhere. The door was very ornate, and the knob was polished bright and gold. Akira didn’t know what to make of this new development. Logic would tell him that a door he could see both sides of would lead nowhere, but if blinking could suddenly make him instant transmission to different places, then undoubtedly this door could be more than it seemed as well. There was only one way to find out, Akira decided. Akira turned the knob, and finding that it was unlocked, opened the door to step through.

He entered a circular stone room. It wasn’t particularly large, but there were many hallways and many doors, so much so that it almost didn’t have any walls. The room was also empty, save for a single desk situated right in the middle, where a hunchbacked man with a long-hooked nose sat, an old-fashioned writing quill twirled delicately between long spindly fingers.

“Ah, welcome to my Velvet Room,” the man spoke, a voice deep and bass that did not fit his appearance. It echoed through the room and gave Akira a chill down his spine. “I have been expecting you, Akira. You’ve kept me waiting for much longer than I thought you would. But that makes this meeting even more special.”

“You’ve been… expecting me? What does that mean? And who are you?” Akira asked, wary. His gut instinct was telling him this man was dangerous, and Akira trusted that knee-jerk response. In this weird world that he didn’t understand, all he could believe was himself.

“My name? Ah… Forgive me. I have so many of them; it’s hard for me to pick one. But first, I am curious. Who do you think that I am?” Akira was caught off guard by the question. He couldn’t even begin to guess at a response.

“I honestly have no idea. And I’d rather not waste time when you could just tell me,” Akira responded bluntly. The man chuckled lowly, and Akira’s hair stood on end.

“You are so very interesting, Akira. That is why I like you so much. Many have come to me before you, calling me by different things. Death, God, the Devil, Doom, Salvation. They are all true, but also all false. I come when there is something to take and never give anything back in return. Adored and feared in equal measure. I’ve been keeping you company for a long while now, Akira.”

“What is that supposed to mean? Or do you not have a straight answer at all?” Akira growled.

“In the end, does it matter what I’m called? It makes no difference to you, or the position that you’re in. But if you insist, I suppose I will let you call me Igor for now. A name I will share only with you.”

“Alright then, Igor. Now that you’ve finally answered one question, what about the rest? Why am I here?”

“This place is my humble kingdom, and you are my honored guest. What happens next will all depend on you. There are many dark hallways here, many doors leading to things you don’t want to see. But there is also something that will make you want to return where you came from and cherish every single little breath you take. I’ve brought you here, Akira, to make you an offer. I have watched you, and I have chosen you. Normally, you would be severely punished for taking your own life. But I want to help you, Akira. I will give you back your happiness in exchange for a simple task. Your life will change completely. You will be yourself again. And you will soon forget the sadness that has consumed you for years.” Akira felt a rage start to simmer in his gut.

“You want to help me? Regain my happiness? You act like I ever had happiness in the first place!” Akira hissed, “You say you’ve watched me? Bullshit. I’ve always been alone.” Igor stared at Akira, his mocking smile never leaving his face.

“I was standing right behind you when you saved that woman, you know. My hand was on your shoulder the whole time you sat alone in that office the day they told you that your parents had disowned you. I saw everything. I know what you want. But it’s not here. It’s gone, and will never come again.”

“Then let me die!” Akira screamed. “Just shut up and let me go then! I have nothing left. That’s true. I never denied that. For the longest time, I tried. I did. I was okay with losing everything I had because I never had it at all. But then I realized that I was never going to be okay. I had let everything go, but it was the world around me that was refusing to change. I was never going to be okay because that was what the world expected of me.”

“Perhaps that is true. But one way or the other, this isn’t the end of your story. It’s only the beginning, Akira. And great things are waiting for you, all you must do is believe in me,” Igor replied. Akira’s jaw clenched.

“I still don’t even know what it is that you’re expecting I’ll do for you. And I don’t know what you’re even expecting to fix to ‘get back my happiness’ or whatever you think you’re doing,” Akira growled.

“I do suppose that it’s time to cut to the chase, hm? Death can fix nothing, Akira. But though we are both dead, I am not Death. But I assure you, I’m just as powerful as gods. And I chose you, Akira Kurusu. You will go back from where you came, and you will face five people. They are no ordinary people, they’re special, just like you. Only in a different way. They are touched by this realm just as you are, but it has done something different to you than it has to them.”

“I still don’t understand why you’ve chosen me, out of all of the people out there in the world. Why me? I’ve never been successful at anything in my goddamn life, what makes you think this will be any different? I’ve struggled and clawed my way to keep living, and it still didn’t mean anything.”

“Yes, but all of that struggling is precisely why I chose you. You’ve been marked for death for six long years, Akira. It is honestly a miracle, even to me, that you have lived this long the way you have. Alone, wanting to vanish every day, facing injustice after injustice with not so much as a flinch. My realm was a siren, calling to you stronger and stronger each day. And you were able to endure six years of it. You are infinitely special, Akira, even if you cannot comprehend the reasons. And if you succeed in the task I lay before you; then you will never feel broken again.”

“And these five people, what do you mean by facing them? I hope you’re not seriously expecting me to, what, start fights with people or something? All of this is ridiculous,” Akira huffed.

“These ‘people’ you’re referring to, I call them Parasites. They don’t know each other and aren’t connected in any way, but their fates are inseparable. It doesn’t matter what you do, Akira. You’re touched by my realm, same as they are. They will know what you are and be drawn to you. They will want to get closer to you, may even pretend they are your friends. Do not be fooled. They’ll want to hurt you, Akira. They want to hurt you and everyone around them. No matter how harmless they may first appear, Parasites are the evil scum of the earth. Their twisted desires that have manifested into tangible forms in my realm have escaped to their real bodies in the physical domain. Once they have become possessed by that aspect of themselves, there is no going back for them; they cannot be separated or fixed. The only option is their complete destruction. I chose you to become my hunter, serving punishment for their sins. A tool of destruction. You’ll find your purpose in life when you see for the first time how satisfying it can be. Bring those deceitful bastards in front of me, and we’ll make them regret everything they’ve done.”

“I… you’re asking me to… you want me to go back just to be some murderer? To fix shit that your realm caused? I’ve finally escaped the suffering I’ve been through. And now you want me to go back? For this bullshit? There isn’t a single chance in hell I’m going to be your ‘tool of destruction.’ Find someone else,” Akira turned his back to Igor, face raw with fury.

“Dear, dear Akira,” Igor’s voice was low and ominous, “You don’t realize that the suffering never stops, do you? It only gets worse. This place, my realm, is the passage between the world of the living and the world of the dead. You enter one of these corridors before you, and you will never come back. But you don’t cease to exist. You remain. I am not expecting you to kill these Parasites, Akira. I’m expecting you to fight for your survival, as you’ve always done, as you’ve shown me that you have an extraordinary capability to do.  I’m expecting you to do everything in your power to defend yourself and the people around you.

“I know you’re not a murderer, Akira. Quite the opposite. You’re a ‘good person.’ Those people, those Parasites, will want to cause you pain. They will not hesitate to torture and defile you, to make you genuinely suffer. They’ve already claimed many victims before you, and they will continue to do so if they exist. And to them, you will be a prized victim above all others. Think of it as gardening- if they were weeds amongst the flowers you’d pull them out, wouldn’t you?”

“I think that it’s kinda fucked up to see people like flowers and weeds,” Akira snapped.

“If you don’t stop them, their killing will only continue. Innocent people are dying. But you can make a difference. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

“Stop it! Just stop!” Akira clutched his head with both hands, “I’ve lost all hope for myself, I’ve been dragged down to my lowest point. And you’re saying shit like this; you’re a manipulative, conniving asshole! You said you were watching me this whole time; you were just waiting for me to commit suicide! You were waiting for me to finally snap and then come to me with all your bullshit about saving people and making a difference. Guess what?” Akira whips around to glare at Igor with a cold vengeance, “You can find someone else to play one trick pony to this freak show. Because I’m not. I don’t take kindly to people trying to control me. Leave. Me. Alone.”

Igor stared at Akira as he breathed slowly with rage, and after a few beats of silence let out a few soft chuckles. Chuckles which transformed into explosive laughter, deep and sinister.

“For someone so ready to lay down and die, you still have so much fight left in you. I’ve already told you, your fate is tied to these Parasites in ways you cannot imagine. You’re bound to this realm in such incomprehensible ways to your mortal brain. You’ve been blessed with a gift. Immortality. You will always return no matter what is done or what happens to you.”

“What the fuck did you just say?” Akira growled.

“As long as the Parasites live, you cannot die. You are in no position to be refusing anything that I’ve offered you. You will either fulfill my request, or you will be damned for eternity and unable to find your peace. This is your new fate,” Igor replied evenly, “I want you to understand that you can keep going long after you can’t. The Parasites are coming whether you want it or not. You don’t have any choice.”

“Fuck you. The only one who can decide my fate is me.”

“Don’t you understand there is no other way,” Igor snarled, finally losing all composure.

“I have no way of knowing that. All you’ve been doing up to this point is manipulating me into doing what you want me to do. How can I know for sure anything you tell me is the truth? If I’m going to do anything, then I’m going to do it my way. I can see now that I’ve made a mistake trying to take my own life. If there was one thing you were right about, death fixes nothing for me. I’m not going to let anything control me like that ever again. And now I’ve realized that I can’t wait for my situation to change, I have to change it myself. I need to free myself again, more than I’ve already done. I haven’t reached out. But I know that I can now.”

“You fool. You damned arrogant fool. But okay, have it your way. In the end, I will be the one laughing at you. I always am. When things play out exactly as they’ve been fated to be, you will come to understand. You will be on your knees begging me to give you a second chance,” Igor sneered.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Igor, but I don’t beg,” Akira turned from him, “So I guess I’ll be proving you wrong twice over.” Without waiting for a reply, walked back through the door he’d entered in.

He came out decidedly not in the same place he’d come from. It was a large room, an atrium perhaps, and it was filled almost entirely of lit candles. Rows upon rows of white wax candles laid out over stairs covered in what looked to be red drapes. The circular space seemed to have no walls, just rows and stairs ascending as far as Akira could tell in the dim gloom. Despite the flames all around him, Akira felt frozen. This all felt extremely unnatural. Akira turned around to leave again, but there was no door behind him. Only more stairs and more candles and more red drapery.

“Is it too much to ask that I can just get to fucking leave?” Akira hissed quietly to himself.

“Apparently so,” a voice spoke behind him. Akira spun around quickly and saw nothing but his reflection. Or, no, Akira blinked, and it was no mirror but an exact copy of himself. Well, with yellow eyes and a condescending smirk. This copy threw his arms out wide in a mockery of a welcoming gesture.

“The flames of your rebellion, alight in the seat of your soul, have called to me. The will to break the chains of your fate and your failings, the hot iron of your blood, have sung praises to my ears. I am here only for one thing: to offer you undying loyalty, so long as you never let that flame of your rebellion run cold,” the look-alike spoke.

“I’ll give you points for style, but what the hell exactly does that mean?” Akira asked. The other him sighed and shook his head.

“I suppose I can speak in layman's terms if I must. Put simply; I wish to form a contract with you. It’s easily within the realm of your capabilities as an accomplished Witch, after all.”

“Excuse me? Witch?” His reflection blinked.

“You mean to tell me you aren’t? Then how did you even enter this realm? You didn’t perform a summoning and cry out with all your might for a demon’s power?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously at Akira.

“Um, no? I got dragged her after I…” Akira hesitated but figured there was no point in being ashamed of what happened after everything he’d been through already, “After I committed suicide. And then some evil guy with a hook nose tried to make me his ‘tool of destruction,’ so now I’m immortal if I believe that. I told him to fuck off. I’m just trying to find my way back to the realm of the living now.” His reflection gave one slow blink. And then promptly laughed.

“You… you told the ruler of limbo to fuck off?” he wheezed through his chuckling. Akira rubbed the back of his head.

“I supposed I did.”

“Now there’s no stopping me. I’m going to form a contract with you. You’re going to become the most powerful Witch in existence. I’m never wrong about these things.”

“Sure. As long as you get me the fuck out of here, I’m game,” Akira replied. Akira didn’t know his face could make such a wicked looking smirk.

“Are you so stupid? You’re just going to form a pact with a demon without even setting boundaries or anything?” A third voice piped up. Said demon’s smirk faded into a scowl at the blink of an eye.

“Who invited you here? This is my corner pocket domain,” he cursed.

“Nuh-uh, I wanted to see the strong Witch for myself,” the voice spoke, and Akira looked down to see a black cat slink towards them, blending with the shadows and only the irises of its sapphire eyes constantly visible.

“Not very intelligent for having so much power though, huh? What if he’d come across anyone other than you? He would be demolished for sure,” the cat meowed. The Akira demon tilted his head in thought.

“Perhaps. But perhaps not,” he spoke, “But that’s beside the point. You aren’t supposed to be here.” The cat rolled its eyes.

“I’m here to make sure you don’t do anything reckless. Like, form a contract with a Witch with no boundaries. It’s dangerous for the both of you to do that, not just the human. You’ll need a competent, strong, amazing Familiar to help guide you through your powers. And that’s-“

“Amazing, you know a Familiar like that?” the demon interrupted. The cat arched it’s back and hissed.

“I’m talking about myself! Shut up! Amazing, strong, competent, that’s where I come in!” the cat continued as though he hadn’t been interrupted. Akira raised his brow.

“Can I go home?” he asked. The demon chuckled fondly.

“Impatient I see. I would be too. Let’s discuss boundaries then. I cannot possess you, harm you, harm anyone you deem worthy of protection. I feed on the souls of anyone you consider worthy of death. Simple enough. You may use my powers freely. You may not transfer my pact to another Witch, and our bond cannot be broken until both sides consent its nullification,” The demon spoke. The cat nodded its head.

“To confirm the pact, I’ll act as an anchor. I cannot alter any boundaries or pact conditions between Witch and Demon, but can conduit any power channeled to me to use as the host Witch sees fit. Fair enough, right?”

“And to seal the deal, we speak our true names. Witch, you must offer us your blood,” The demon spoke again. Akira hesitated.

“Why are you doing this? What do you gain? And how do I know this isn’t a trick?” He asked.

“I will show you.” The demon’s features melted out of Akira’s reflection, and blue flame erupted around him. All the candles in the room flared blue and rose up in the same fashion. Jet black wings flapped out a powerful gust, and the form of a horned monster with clawed hands and dapper clothing appeared where Akira’s copy had been before. Candles around them flickered, but none of them blew out.

“Behold my true form,” the demon extended a clawed hand, “I have heeded your resolve. Vow to me. I am thou, and thou art I. Thou who art willing to perform all sacrilegious acts for thine own justice! Call upon my name, and release thy rage! Show the strength of thy will to ascertain all on thine own, though thou be chained to Hell itself! I am Arsene!”

Akira felt a current course through his body, burning inside his chest. There was a flame, a bright sliver of the sun he felt start expanding. He couldn’t quite describe how exactly it felt, but… Akira thought this was what belonging must feel like.

“Arsene!” Akira cried out, “Thou art I, and I art thou! We will ravage all those who seek to oppress us! From now on, Akira and Arsene are one!” Arsene’s laughter bellowed through the dark air, and wings and arms came down to slide around Akira’s upper body.

“You will never be alone again, Akira. I can promise you that,” the demon whispered, his voice a caress.

“I believe you,” Akira spoke with conviction.

“Don’t forget about me!” the cat yowled. “My name is Morgana! And I’m your Familiar now, okay! When you accepted Arsene, you accepted me too! Just think of me as your best friend from now on! I’m gonna make sure you take care of yourself. And my unique ability will let us transport anywhere at any time! As long as you have a bag.”

“What? A bag?” Akira asked incredulously. Arsene chuckled.

“If you use Akira’s magic, Morgana, you won’t need a bag.” Morgana’s eyes lit up like jewels.

“Really? I didn’t know you were that strong Akira!”

“I can feel it, even with this half bond we share now,” Arsene confirmed.

“Oh, that’s right,” Akira responded, and held out his hand, “You need my blood, right?”

“You don’t have to complete the bond now. You can wait until you’re sure. We could still be trying to trick you, you know. You really shouldn’t trust a demon so openly like this,” Morgana hissed. Akira shook his head.

“I’ve seen all I needed to see. I can feel it, even with this half bond,” He looked up at Arsene’s tall frame into the flames of his eyes, “Right?” The demon chuckled. In one smooth motion, Arsene scrapped a claw across Akira’s wrist, and a thin line of blood seeped out. Akira didn’t even feel it. The two of them were engulfed in blue flame, but Akira only felt a pleasant warmth sweeping around him, and when the fire abated, Arsene went back to looking like Akira’s doppelganger again. He smirked and licked Akira’s blood off his nails.

“You really do like him, huh Arsene? I’ve never seen you take another human’s form before,” Morgana purred.

“It is quite exceptional. Go now. Our bond is cemented forever. I won’t be physically present with you in the realm of the living, but you will carry a piece of me with you. When you need me, Morgana will know how you can summon me. Or, maybe you’ll be able to figure it out yourself. You have good instincts Akira, always trust them.” Akira nodded. Morgana pawed at Akira’s legs and meowed.

“Hey, lift me!” he cried. Akira laughed and picked the cat up into his arms.

“I like this, having a Witch is awesome,” he purred. Arsene pointed to the nearest candle in the room.

“There, use it to return,” he spoke. Akira nodded and moved towards it. He took a slow, calming breath. It felt a little wrong, and he felt repulsed at the thought of blowing out the candle. But if it’s the only way to return…

“Don’t worry, Akira. It’s their time. Don’t feel bad. Life and death go hand in hand, and it’s natural. It’s okay to accept that,” Morgana whispered, “You have such a good heart. I’m glad Arsene chose you.” Akira leaned down and blew out the candle. Everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of talking about suicide  
> Suicide is committed  
> Feelings of depression and lots of talking about depression  
> Parental neglect is mentioned but not explicit


	7. Time Consumer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira ends up in the hospital after his little suicide stunt. Things seem like they're going to get better, but in reality, it's gotten much worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is up! I've been working on it and I'm going to try posting chapters as soon as I'm done writing them. I'm super excited to continue, things are starting to really gear up. This is the beginning of the real meat of the story. Kamoshitty isn't even a drop in the bucket compared to what's to come. Consider the prologue OVER. Warnings at the end of the chapter.

 

 _With my own time role your own innocence by_  
_Grab onto my sleeve_  
_The one that grabs at your ankle_  
_Debate to understand that we all have a flaw_  
_Then fail to represent your life as we know it_  
_God grant you one wish to turn back the time_  
_Correct and create... making sense of..._

 _So they pulled your confidence down_  
_With those verbal discrepancies_  
_Now then you'll gain what they've lost_  
_Through a challenge of unpronounced_  
_Pain is only a pulse if you just stop feeling it_  
_You might be able to use_  
_The very things that make us up_

 _Wait, now, here when will you believe me?_  
_I'm merely asking you to help me_  
_When did I say to murder?_  
_Wait, now, here, please hear me out_  
_Time consumer, time consuming, consume me_

 

* * *

The first thing Akira became aware of was a steady, high-pitched beeping. He struggled to open his eyes, the world blurry and out of focus. It was too bright, and he couldn’t manage more than a squint, anything else was too painful. There was a movement to his right, but Akira couldn’t accomplish much more than a slight tilt of his head in the direction of it.

“He’s awake, doctor,” A woman’s voice spoke almost tonelessly. Akira was starting to gain more consciousness, taking in the thin white medical blanket draped over his lower body, the sparse hospital room he was being kept in, the flat medical bed he was laying on. The beeping was his heart monitor, and he could feel an oxygen mask strapped to his face. An older man in a white lab coat stepped into Akira’s field of vision.

“It’s good to see you’re finally awake. You are in the Itō Hospital. I’m Doctor Oyamada. Can you confirm your name for me?” The doctor spoke, in short, concise sentences. His voice hid an edge of impatience.

“Akira Kurusu,” Akira managed to say, voice gravelly and low. He felt like absolute shit. He probably looked the part, too.

“Hello, Kurusu-san. You’re in the ward now. Your condition is stable. From my examinations I’ve concluded that there’s been no permanent damage to your body or brain functions. Your internal organs seem to be in excellent working order. You are an extremely fortunate young man, Kurusu-san. You should expect to feel some severe tiredness and lethargy for the next couple of days, but it will pass soon. I would advise plenty of rest for now. The nurses on the ward will take care of you from here. Please let them know if you need anything.” The doctor left after that. Akira barely registered the nurse that was still in the room asking if he needed anything. He slowly drifted back to unconsciousness.

When he woke again, a nurse was standing over him. He had a strap attached to his upper arm, hooked to a machine on her right. Akira scrapped together enough brainpower to recognize she was taking his blood pressure. Akira gazed vacantly at her face while she was preoccupied with the machine. She was pretty, he mused, with dark eyes and short dark hair, heavy eyeliner. Wait, was that a choker she’s wearing? She finally looked up and caught him staring at her.

“So, you’re awake. I must take your vitals, but I was hoping I wouldn’t end up bothering you. Unfortunately, being a nuisance is part of my job. I’m Nurse Takemi, the one assigned to watch over your recovery. So, do try to behave for me, hm?” Her voice was aloof, but not unkind. A compassionate person that just had some social hang-ups, maybe, Akira mused. He managed to nod in response to show he was both aware and able to understand her. Takemi gave a small noise of approval.

“I know that Doctor Oyamada told you before, but I feel the need to impress this upon you harsher. You are incredibly lucky, Kurusu-san. In all honesty, I don’t think you even should have survived your suicide attempt. You flatlined, Kurusu-san. Doctor Oyamada and I thought you were past the point of no return. But your heart rate picked back up again, miraculously. And I’m going to tell you that you shouldn’t press this luck of yours like this a second time. Do you understand?” Takemi spoke sternly and without mercy. Akira swallowed and nodded again. It was the only thing he could do. He got the feeling this nurse wasn’t someone he wanted to cross. Takemi sighed. The blood pressure machine beeped, and Takemi ran over his numbers to make sure nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Alright, I’m all finished here. I’ll be back to check in on you later. Get some more rest. I’ll have food for you next time you wake up.” She gathered up her equipment and exited the room, and Akira felt himself slip out of wakefulness and into dreams.

Akira jolted awake to the fading sounds of Igor’s laughter. The most disturbing thing was Akira didn’t know if it was just a dream or not, he couldn’t quite remember what happened in his nightmare. All he knew was that he was drenched in a cold sweat and still laid up in this stupid hospital bed. He was struck with an intense desire to leave this place. Akira looked around and almost startled to see Takemi standing at the foot of his bed. She was arranging a food tray for him.

“Bad dream?” She asked with an edge of concern.

“Can’t remember,” Akira told a half-truth.

“Probably for the best. I almost woke you up myself. You looked stressed, and you were tossing around when I walked in.” She paused to help rearrange Akira as she adjusted the incline of his bed so that he was now in a slanted upright position. She unfolded out a plastic surface from the side of the railings of the hospital bed to set Akira’s food tray on.

“You really should try to eat as much as you can right now. But don’t push yourself, just whatever will fill you, nothing more than that.”

“Is it alright if you stay? I have some questions,” Akira spoke slowly, testing his throat to get used to talking again.

 “I’m your nurse, Kurusu-san, of course I’ll answer your questions,” Takemi replied.

“What happened to me?”

“Let’s start with what you remember,” Takemi suggested.

“I remember taking all those pills… laying spread out on the floor and watching my ceiling spin in circles. And then…” Akira trailed off. Then he’d died, and apparently went to limbo and talked to some sort of god. And made a deal with a demon. “And then I woke up here. How did anyone find me?”

“Your body went into a coma. Who knows what would have happened had you not owned that cat, Kurusu-san. It was the only reason you were found and treated so quickly. Apparently, it was making quite a fit and upsetting all your neighbors. Your apartment door wasn’t even locked, either. There’s no doubt about it, your cat saved your life,” Takemi shook her head in disbelief, but Akira could see a barely noticeable smile on her face. She had a fondness for cats, he guessed. There was only a second or two of confusion on Akira’s part before he remembered Morgana, the cat Familiar he bonded to. Akira never left his door unlocked either, so somehow Morgana opened his door, so people could get inside, too. He’d really have to ask about that.

“How long have I been here?”

“You were rushed to the ER around seven in the evening. You had a cardiac arrest in the ambulance, they had to resuscitate you. Your heart stopped beating for nearly a minute. But they were able to bring you back. You went to the intensive care unit where they gave you a dose of antidote and pumped your stomach. As soon as your condition was stable, they brought you to this ward. This ward of the hospital is dedicated to treating patients with similar conditions to yours.”

“You mean suicidal patients, right?” Akira asked. Takemi pursed her lips in distaste.

“Yes. This is the Suicide Watch unit. I’ll apologize in advance. The other nurses assigned to this station can be a bit insensitive. You might hear them refer to this area as the… Death Ward. I’m telling you now so you’ll be prepared. We get a lot of patients sent here. A lot of staff here are actually dedicated to other stations but have to volunteer on this one because of how overwhelmed we can get. I’m part of the Cancer Ward, for example, but I choose to help here as well.”

“When will I be able to go home?” Akira asked finally. Takemi shifted, looking a little uncomfortable.

“I’m not entirely sure. Not today, at least. You’ll have to have a psychiatric session with Doctor Oyamada and be given an all clear from him before they’ll release you.” Takemi hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” Akira prodded.

“I feel like I should warn you about Doctor Oyamada. He puts patients in the Suicide Watch unit through pretty rigorous psychological testing before being cleared. That being said, he’ll also discharge patients without warning, and no one will know they’ve left until Doctor Oyamada tells us himself. Just suddenly there’ll be an empty bed and release papers on the desk. It’s not like there’s anything wrong, no one has any complaints about the man or anything like that. His methods are just a little too clandestine for my tastes, I suppose. It might just be the other nurses like to make up rumors because he’s not too sociable with his other staff members. He’s apparently very strict and unforgiving of mistakes.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” Akira responded. Takemi nodded and left the room to let Akira eat his meal in peace.

 

* * *

 

 

“We’ll start with a little chat about your childhood,” Doctor Oyamada spoke. Akira remained silent, seated across from the doctor, a glass-top desk being the only thing situated between them.

“I want you to be as honest as possible,” The doctor continued, unphased by Akira’s lack of cooperation, “It’s essential if we want to get to the bottom of your problem. Just count to ten and tell me when you’re ready. This isn’t about whether you’re ‘nuts’ or not, as I’ve said before. It’s about finding what has caused how you’re feeling now and creating a working solution. To achieve that, I need to get to know you better. To that end, we should discuss your early years. When you’re a child, your life revolves around your parents. We can start with your father. What was your relationship with him like?”

Akira felt distinctly uncomfortable. Discussing his parents was just about the last thing he wanted to do, now or ever. The less said about them, he felt, the better.

“He was the typical overbearing father. Strict and didn’t like being talked back to. Always got the last word. We butted heads a lot as I grew older. Our personalities just didn’t mesh very well, I guess,” Akira described a watered down version of his relationship with his father.

“I see. And what about your mother? Can you tell me about her?” Doctor Oyamada prompted. Akira took a deep breath.

“Nothing out of the ordinary between my mother and I. She was always the one concerned about my future. Kept worrying about how well I was doing in school, always encouraging me to study or do chores. She was suspicious if she ever saw me doing anything but schoolwork. There was never a moment I couldn’t be bettering my studies, according to her.” Akira didn’t say anything more than that. The doctor didn’t need to know anything more than this version of Akira’s parents.

“And do you still keep in touch with your parents?”

“Not very recently, no,” Akira gave an unspecific reply.

“Very well. That’s enough about your parents for now. Let’s take two minutes, and we’ll talk about something else…”

 

* * *

 

 

“I think I’m well enough to leave now,” Akira told Takemi as she checked on him in the evening. Instead of staying in his bed, he sat in one of the side chairs by the window of his room. It gave him a bit more to do than just staring at the walls or ceiling. The view wasn’t great, but it was better than nothing, he supposed.

“You’re certainly complaining enough to be well,” she replied with a smirk.

“I wouldn’t be complaining so much if I was getting out of this place. I’ve already had a session with Doctor Oyamada. I mean, I felt like that went pretty well. What more does he want?”

“He’s not going to clear your discharge until they’ve confirmed you're stable enough to not try to commit suicide again. It wouldn’t do to let you leave and then have you come right back in a few days. Some procedures have to be followed,” Takemi answered him sternly, but not unkindly. Akira sighed.

“I don’t like it here. I’ve never really been to a hospital before this. I never got sick much growing up, and when I did, I didn’t need more than over-the-counter medication.” The medication he usually had to find himself, more often than not. His parents would never believe it if he was sick for more than a day or two. They didn’t approve of him missing school or skipping out doing household chores or school assignments. But Takemi didn’t need to know that much.

“I understand if it makes you uncomfortable. It’s a fairly common phenomenon. It must be an instinctual thing for people to be repulsed by others’ suffering and pain. But that feeling reminds me of why I studied to become a nurse, and eventually started to study the creation and manufacturing of medicine. Easing people’s afflictions is always something that I’ve been devoted to. On top of being a nurse here, I’m also working closely with a local medical university developing drugs specifically to help cancer patients.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” Akira praised her. She had a lot more going for her than he did, that’s for sure.

“I have a patient in the Cancer Ward that I’m very close to. It’s part of the reason I’m working so hard at the university right now. I haven’t been able to see her recently, with all of the work I’ve had to do here in the Suicide Watch unit for Doctor Oyamada, but I’ll be returning to my post sometime soon. She’s just a little girl, but she’s been through so much already. She’s still so happy and lively, and I’m hoping to develop something soon that will give her a full, long life. Even if I can’t cure her entirely yet, but I’m still trying my hardest to give her as much of her life back as I can. And maybe while I’m doing that, a breakthrough will happen. I just have to keep moving forward.”

“I’m rooting for you,” Akira told her earnestly, “for you and for your little patient. I wonder if it would be okay to visit her sometime. Not now, obviously, but maybe after I’m released.”

“I think she’d like that. She loves meeting new people. And, it’s a little weird, but I get the impression you’re good with children for some reason.”

“’For some reason’ she says. You can’t just compliment me and leave it at that?” Akira bemoaned. Takemi shook her head, but she had a soft smile on her face. There was a knock, and Doctor Oyamada entered the room shortly after.

“It’s time for your prescribed medications, Kurusu-san,” he spoke. Akira scowled and was briefly surprised to see a frown on Takemi’s face when he glanced over.

“Doctor, I wanted to have a word with you about the prescriptions you’ve placed Kurusu-san on. Some of these medications seem unnecessary. Kurusu-san is recovering from overdosing on several different pain medications and has signs of only minor depressive tendencies. It’s not needed for him to have such potent sedatives at a stage where he’s clearly nonviolent and high-functioning. Especially with such significant side effects as hallucination and paranoia.”

“Takemi-san, with all due respect, if I needed your opinion on Kurusu-san’s medications, I would have asked you for them. Kurusu-san’s medical records show a long history of behavioral counseling, and that’s not even touching his previous conviction of assault. Regarding my own sessions with him, I’ve determined he’s also a pathological liar that cannot be trusted,” Doctor Oyamada spoke with a grave loathing. Akira’s stomach twisted when Takemi glanced his way quickly. He remained silent and did nothing.

“Even still,” Takemi continued on, a resolute expression on her face, “There hasn’t been any behavior on Kurusu’s part that has indicated the need for these sedatives. I’ve also read the reports you’re mentioning, as I am Kurusu’s assigned nurse. All of his previous counseling sessions have happened during his middle school and early high school years, and he hasn’t had or needed any other therapy since then. His assault charge was also more than six years ago. I haven’t seen anything to suggest that after Kurusu-san became independent that he’s been in or caused any sort of trouble. I don’t think it’s fair to him to have diagnoses, all of which were reasonably minor behavioral issues I should mention, that was given him over six years ago such weight for his current treatment.”

“Enough Nurse Takemi,” Doctor Oyamada practically growled, “This isn’t the place nor the time for such meaningless conjecture on your part. I believe it would be best if you kept your opinions squarely within your own field of study and let me do my own job, which I’m significantly more qualified to do than you are.” Takemi’s expression hardened, and a cold fury radiated from her eyes. Akira similarly felt deeply offended on her behalf. Before any more words could be spoken, two male staff members came in with a tray of needles. Akira wasn’t particularly scared of needles, but the sight of them still made his body break out in a cold sweat, and there was an instinctual part of him that wanted to run and escape. He felt his breathing escalate and a tremor run through his body as the two staff members started to close in on him.

“Doctor-,” Takemi started, but Oyamada cut her off.

“If you’re going to impede required medical procedures, Nurse Takemi, I’m going to have to ask that you leave. I don’t want to resort to having you thrown out.” Takemi’s jaw clenched shut, and she moved from in front of Akira and out of the way, hands clenched into fists. The tremors Akira had worsened as he felt himself become cornered.

“No, stop. I don’t want this medication,” Akira spoke, standing up from his chair.

“There’s no need to resist,” one of the staff members said in what Akira guessed they thought was supposed to be a soothing tone. Instead, it set Akira’s teeth on edge. “This is a normal medical dose. Nothing is going to happen to you. This is to help you get better.”

“I told you that I don’t want it. I feel perfectly fine right now,” Akira argued, becoming agitated. He didn’t like being boxed in, he hated feeling like he was being cornered. There wasn’t anywhere for him to go, nowhere he could escape. His breathing got faster, and his hands clenched about as hard as his jaw.

“Please stop,” he whispered as one of the male nurses reached out to him. Akira imagined he looked the same as a feral dog being cornered by animal control. He wouldn’t be surprised if he were snarling. As soon as he felt a hand on his arm, he swung out almost unconsciously, clocking the nurse touching him dead in the face. He fell down to the floor, but the second nurse grabbed Akira’s arms while he’d been distracted. Doctor Oyamada must have called for more back up because two other male staff members came in, and the three of them held him in place. Akira was screaming, at first he just kept telling them to stop, but eventually, it degraded down to angry shouts and unintelligible words. At least one staff member had the decency to cover his eyes and forcefully turn his head away as he was injected with sedatives into his arm.

Akira felt the fight drain out of him almost physically. His body started to go limp out of his own control. He barely registered being dragged back to his hospital bed. He couldn’t keep his vision focused, his eyes were heavy, and he couldn’t open them for more than a few seconds at a time. He felt scared. He was distinctly reminded of the same sensations he felt when he’d swallowed all of those pills to commit suicide. He didn’t want to die again, he didn’t want to go back to that hellish place he’d been before. He was terrified and felt sick, and he had absolutely no control. The last thing he registered before he went under was Takemi’s worried face hovering over him.

 

* * *

 

 

“Now, I’d like to ask you some questions about your life, Kurusu-san. You might find them very personal, but it’s important that you answer me as honestly as possible,” Doctor Oyamada droned.

“Sure. Let’s get this over with,” Akira spoke flatly, “I really just want to get out of this place.”

“Of course. I understand. Tell me, Kurusu-san, are you living alone at the moment?” There was a long moment where Akira didn’t respond.

“Please, you shouldn’t be afraid of opening up, Kurusu-san. It’s for your own good that we’re doing this. We need to figure out where things have gone wrong and fix them.”

“I don’t particularly feel like I need fixing,” Akira told him.

“The human mind is a brilliant thing, Kurusu-san. Sometimes the human mind can trick your body into feeling symptoms that aren’t real. The opposite is also true, sometimes it can fool you into thinking that you’re feeling nothing at all. But just because you feel fine doesn’t always mean that there isn’t anything wrong. Do you understand? That’s why opening up and communicating your honest feelings is so important. So we can catch things you might not be able to realize or feel on your own. All I need is for you to relax and be truthful. Can you do that?”

“Fine,” Akira sighed.

“What do you do for a living?” Oyamada started.

“I have a handful of part-time jobs,” Akira relented, “I mainly work as a convenience store cashier and an order-taker at a fast-food joint at the moment. I switch between the two for morning and night-time shifts. I usually only have one day off at the beginning of the week when it’s the slowest for both jobs.”

“Do you like working multiple jobs and the schedule you work?”

“Not particularly. I never feel like I have any time to myself. The jobs I work aren’t particularly hard, and I don’t mind them, but it can get hectic and stressful. The customer service industry has its own brand of unique hardships. But you’ll find difficulties at any job you work. I’ve learned a rhythm for myself after all this time to cope with it.”

“It would be a good idea to try and find more time for yourself to rest. But it’s also important to keep busy and have tasks to complete for yourself. I would suggest getting back to work as soon as next week, but try to limit the number of shifts you take on for yourself.” Akira finds himself a little annoyed at how readily Oyamada can advise he go right back to work as if he might even have a job to return to. Or to suggest to take it easy on his workload, when Akira depends on that full schedule to pay all of his monthly expenses. Akira keeps his opinions to himself.

“Describe to me what your mornings look like,” Oyamada continued on, “What is the first thing you do each day?”

“I usually start my mornings with a strong cup of coffee and smoke on my balcony. I know it’s not particularly healthy, but it’s a habit I’ve grown accustomed to, a ritual to help me survive the rest of my day. I don’t feel right unless I’ve had a good cup of coffee.”

“And would you say you feel safer at home than outside?”

“I suppose so. It’s not really about feeling safe. I’m rarely at my apartment for long, I work too much. It’s more like a retreat. When I’m at home, it means I’m finally alone, and I don’t have to worry about anyone or anything but my own needs. It’s more about having that freedom for myself. As paradoxical as it might sound for me to feel like I have more freedom inside my apartment than outside of it.”

“What do you think is missing in your life? Or rather, what is one thing that you think would make your life better?” Akira hesitated.

“I think… I mostly needed something to fight for. Some reason that would make all my struggles worth living for.”

“There’s always a reason to live. Sometimes we just don’t see it that clearly. Have you considered trying group therapy sessions? Having a support group around you, and knowing that you aren’t the only one experiencing the feelings that you have, can do wonders. It’s also a good source of social non-work interaction that you might be lacking in your current lifestyle.”

“I don’t know if I could do that. Sharing things isn’t especially easy for me. Listening to others is fine, I even enjoy doing things like that. But I’d rather not have to talk about myself if I can help it, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“You should at least give it a go first, and then decide. If you don’t like it, we can think of something else, yeah?”

“If you insist, I could try it,” Akira half-heartedly agreed.

“Do you have problems sleeping?” Oyamada continued.

“Rarely. If anything, I probably sleep too much. Again, my work schedule keeps me nice and tired. I spend most of my free time eating or sleeping.”

“And would you describe for me how you feel at the moment?”

“I feel fine now, as I’ve told you before. I honestly don’t want to repeat what I’ve done,” Akira replied sincerely, “I know what I’ve been doing up until now has to change. And I want to change my life. I want it to be better. I don’t know how yet, but I’m going to make it happen. I have to change it with my own hands.”

“Do you find it hard to concentrate?”

“No, not really.”

“Do you drink alcohol?”

“No, I don’t drink.”

“I’d suggest continuing that practice. Sometimes, when life gets too much, and people feel sad or upset, they think about suicide. Do you often think about suicide?”

“No, I never used to think about suicide or plan suicide. It’s hard to explain how it happened. I just… felt like I lost control and couldn’t get it back. I don’t like feeling like I don’t have a choice. I kept thinking about how I didn’t know what I was doing with my life or where my life was going. All of the things I couldn’t do, places I couldn’t go for whatever reasons. I couldn’t think of anything that I could do to change it, I couldn’t see any way out. And then next thing I know, I was grabbing and swallowing pills… It was just… strange, how it came over me.”

“Please try to explain to me in your own words: why did you really try to take your own life, Kurusu-san?”

“Mostly I just felt like I was living just for the sake of it, but nothing I was doing made any difference or had any meaning. I was just going through motions with no goal but to just do the same thing the very next day. Whole weeks would pass, and I wouldn’t be able to remember anything I did during that time of any significance. Days blurred together, and I honestly wouldn’t know what day of the week it was if it weren’t for needing to keep track of my work shifts. My life was just full of nothing. And I felt powerless and unsure of how to change it into anything worth living.”

“Do you still feel like your life isn’t worth living? That you’re a burden on society?”

“No, I see now that I was letting outside circumstances control how I lived my life. I didn’t fight hard enough to change my situation because I thought that there wasn’t any chance that I could win. But I know now that I have the strength to overcome the fate I felt like I had. I realize now that I can decide my own fate. And I will.”

“What makes you feel better?”

“I… got a cat just recently. I can’t just abandon him. I feel like I’ve regained something vital that I didn’t know I’d lost when I think about taking care of him.”

“Ok… One last question. This is just a formality, but I have to ask. Are you going to try and commit suicide again?”

“I honestly can’t stomach thinking about taking my own life,” Akira replied. The thought of it repulsed him down to his very core. Maybe it had something to do with what might be waiting for him on the other side.

“Excellent. We’re nearly done here. There’s just one last thing I must clear with you. What exactly happened last night?”

“Last night? You mean after you’d drugged me against my will?”

“That’s not the issue at hand here,” Oyamada waved off Akira’s ire.

“I don’t know. The sedatives you gave me made everything feel like a lucid dream. I think… something woke me up… No, there was a person with me in my room. I don’t know why it’s so hard to remember. I think there was a little girl…”

  

* * *

 

 

When Akira awoke, everything was dark. There were no lights from any monitors or equipment. And it was quiet. There wasn’t a single sound. It unsettled Akira deeply. It was a hospital, it couldn’t just feel so abandoned like this. Akira sat up on his bed and startled when he saw a young girl standing at the foot of it, staring at him. She had long blond hair and piercing blue eyes. She looked exceptionally skinny and pale in her blue hospital gown.

“You’re in grave danger here,” she whispered in a high voice, “You have to get out of this place.”

“Who are you? And how did you get in here? Are you lost?” Akira got up slowly from his bed, afraid for some reason to startle the girl. He felt distinctly uncomfortable in his own hospital gown as he approached her. She shook her head.

“No, I’m not lost. I’m exactly where I want to be. You need to leave, and I can help you escape. You have to follow me!” She moved her hands in a come-hither motion as she turned and ran out the door. Akira had no choice but to follow, concerned that this young child was running about unsupervised. He couldn’t just ignore this. He trailed her out into the hallway. Everything was dark and deserted, and Akira felt a cold chill down his spine. He saw the girl run down the hall and around a corner and quickly went after her. It had to have been remarkably late for there not to be even some sort of skeleton crew running the hospital. 

“Hurry!” Akira heard the girl call out from ahead of him.

“Hold on! Where are you going?” Akira called out. There was no answer, and he continued to follow, becoming more anxious.

“Over here!” He heard, and he turned around a corridor into what appeared to be an employees-only section of the floor they were on. There was an emergency exit door leading to a stairwell, and the girl was standing in front of it.

“Akira… if we don’t escape now, they’re going to hurt you… Please, trust me. I know a way out of here. I’ll help you escape.” The girl pushed open the emergency exit door and glanced back at him before starting to ascend the staircase. Akira followed after her, wondering why nothing was locked and why no one was around. Everything felt unnatural. Akira followed the girl all the way up to the roof.

“What are we doing up here?” Akira asked, mostly to himself. Akira pushed open the roof exit door and saw the little girl standing on the rooftop edge. She looked ethereal and calm, city lights illuminating her long blond hair almost white and bleaching her skin unnaturally pale. Akira noticed for the first time that there was blood staining the whole front of her hospital gown. Akira kneeled down and reached his hand out.

“Please, come back over here. You don’t want to be standing on the edge like that,” Akira spoke softly.

“There’s no other way out of this place,” she whispered, “There isn’t any other escape. I have to get out of here! I have to! The doctor won’t leave me alone! I want him to stop… And Miss Takemi is trying so hard for my sake, even though the other doctors told me there wasn’t any way that I was going to get better. She’s always sad, and it’s my fault. I don’t want to make Miss Takemi sad anymore. I need to run away from Miss Takemi and the doctor that keeps hurting me. I have to make it stop.”

“I can help you,” Akira said, “I know that it feels like there isn’t any other way out right now. I understand. But escaping this way will only hurt Takemi-san even more. And if you tell Takemi-san who is hurting you, I promise that we’ll make him stop. You have to trust me. I’m going to help you.” The little girl gave a small, sad smile. Tears welled up in her eyes and started to fall down her cheeks.

“Thank you for caring about me, Akira, even though you’ve never met me before. I know Miss Takemi loved me. She’ll hurt a lot when she finds out that I’m gone. You have to help her feel better, okay? But it’s too late for me now, Akira. I’m scared. I wish I could have seen Miss Takemi one more time before the bad doctor took me away. Please tell Miss Takemi not to be sad. I don’t want her to be sad for me anymore.”

“I don’t understand, what are you saying?” Akira pleaded with her. The little girl tipped backward and fell. Akira shot forward and tried to grab the girl before she completely slipped over the edge, but his hands only met air. She was gone in an instant. There was a sickening crunching sound of metal, and a car alarm blared to life in the still of the night. Akira trembled as he stared at the space the girl had been standing just seconds before, his arms still stuck outstretched. She was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

“I tried to find someone to tell about the little girl, but it was like suddenly the whole hospital was empty. I went back to my room and stayed up the entire rest of the night. I couldn’t go back to sleep. I had a different nurse today than Takemi, so I couldn’t even ask her about the girl. I tried talking to any staff that would listen about what happened, but no one seemed to believe me. I eventually gave up trying to say anything. I think maybe I had a really messed up hallucination from the sedatives. I must have sleep-walked and had an extraordinarily lucid nightmare. I just want to forget it happened.”

“Don’t worry, Kurusu-san. Nurse Takemi had personal matters to attend to today, but I assure you that you can meet with her and clear up your hallucination. I want you to talk to her and clear up this dream you had. She’ll be able to tell you that everything is alright,” Oyamada spoke, standing up from his seat. Akira stood as well.

“It’s really not necessary to bother her about any of this. I really just want to go home now,” Akira tried to reason. Oyamada motioned to his office door. Akira turned around to grip the knob but paused when it wouldn’t turn.

“The door is locked,” he turned back around. Oyamada was standing only a few steps behind him.

“I plan ahead, Akira. I had a feeling in my gut, and my gut’s never wrong. I knew from the moment you opened your pretty little mouth that you’d be nothing but trouble for me. I can practically smell it on you. The scum that come through this unit are unfit to live in civilized society. The dregs of the human gene pool that have nothing and no-one, too weak to continue on with their pitiful lives. I’ve taken it upon myself as a personal mission to rid the earth of those that are a waste of time and resources. It’s such a shame that you had to wallow in that poison for so long. It’s tainted you beyond hope. For what it’s worth, I was actually considering letting you go, at least until you started talking about that little girl and Takemi. But somehow you know. And that means I can’t let you leave here alive.” Oyamada pulled a knife from the inside pocket of his doctor’s coat, and in one swift motion stabbed the blade deep into Akira’s stomach, all the way to the hilt.

Akira gasped and sputtered, falling back and hitting his back on the office door, the knob digging into his spine. He coughed wetly as Oyamada pulled the knife out, only to stab it again through Akira’s chest. Again and again, Oyamada continued stabbing.

“Such an erotic feeling, when you’ve exerted absolute power over your prey. It’s just as I thought. Akira, you make a beautiful corpse.” Akira’s chocking breaths were silenced with a messy stab to his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A whole lot of talking about suicide and suicidal feelings  
> Another suicide is committed  
> Hospital abuse and malpractice  
> Akira's happy funtime therapy session


	8. Al the Killer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dramatic conclusion to Akira's first Parasite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is finally done! I admit that I was mostly done for a little while but was sort of keeping off finishing it due to my own issues with motivation. I struggle with having intense obsessive motivation on certain tasks and then burning out and not touching it again for long periods. But I've been fighting to keep myself consistent with this because I really want to write this story and most importantly to completely finish it and get out all the ideas I have. So I hope you enjoy this latest chapter! Warnings at the end!!

 

 _At birth given scars along tender heart liberties_  
_Injustice for awkward living situated casualties_  
_They lay dead_ along _your floor_  
_Careful not to wake them they're sleeping_  
_In the morrows good morning_  
_The dying will discard the wish to live_

 _You'll get nothing for something_  
_Arise the hidden war of the dead song, unsung_  
_The night of your children's day_  
_Beneath the surface sealed by the floors boarded up_  
_Seal the lips of your voice with haste_  
_And cower at the sounds as they make their way_  
_Suprise speed and malice_  
_The opposing break the surface hold ready_

_Let this colony know in the name of the dead we're coming_

_When I kill her, I'll have her_  
_Dance upon the graves of the dead, upon your name_

* * *

 

 

Akira blinked, and he found himself standing in some warped version of the hospital he’d become familiar with. Everything was broken and rusted, dirty and left to rot. Every few moments, a distant scream would sound out, before returning to silence. Akira knew without question he needed to find his way out of this place. It gave him similar chills to the ‘limbo’ he’d been stuck in before. That alone was enough to put him on edge. There was a giggle behind him. Akira wiped around to see the same little blond girl he had before. She was wearing a frilly blue and white dress and had a bow tied neatly on the crown of her head. Akira got the distinct impression that something was different about her than before. She had a beaming smile on her face, but her eyes were unnaturally bright and eerie.

“Akira! You came to visit me! That makes me so happy. I shouldn’t be because this is a dangerous place for you to be, but I still am anyways!” she chirped excitedly. In the next second, her expression shifted to a twisted snarl. “That filthy doctor hurt you. That means that he needs to be punished.” She ran up to Akira and grabbed onto his arm, hugging it to her chest. He startled, unprepared for the icy corpse-like cold of her body.

“You’ll hurt him for me, won’t you? You’ll make sure he dies a painful death? No one can ever hurt my Akira and live!” She cried out, tears forming in her eyes. “Please let me help you! I’ll punish him!” she begged, “I promise you! I’ll make him Die For Me.” She abruptly let go of Akira’s arm to twirl around in front of him.

“I really liked this little girl. She was kind to me even though she was hurting. So, I started to like the things and people she loved. I kept her company every day as she suffered, unable to leave this hospital. I loved the nurse that took care of her because the girl loved her. I have an affinity with Takemi and people like her, you see. People closely associated with Death. Not like death as in people dying but Death as in change and renewal. A whole bunch of stuff I don’t want to explain. So, I won't!” The girl giggled again. Akira was sure now that she was probably actually a demon who had taken a liking to the girl’s appearance, much like Arsene had with Akira’s form.

“And then when she wanted to save you, I slipped into your dreams to warn you. You’re a Witch.” The little demon stopped spinning and snapped her eyes to Akira’s, piercing him with her gaze. “My name is Alice. I like you, so you belong to me now. Just like that little girl. That doctor took her away from me. And he hid Takemi away, too, and I liked her a lot. And now he’s trying to take you away from me when I started liking you, too. I’m going to kill him.”

“Alice,” Akira repeated. She nodded to him approvingly. “You’re a demon, aren’t you?”

“Don’t tell me you already have your own demon!” Alice cried out in genuine distress, “You can’t! I won’t let you! I want to be your demon, so that means you have to!” She stomped her foot childishly. Akira swallowed, unsure of how to resolve this. There was no chance he was giving up Arsene. Especially when Alice herself seemed a lot less stable. Alice stopped her tantrum suddenly, eyes wide, a sudden smile blooming on her face.

“Wait! I’ve got it!” She ran up and grabbed Akira’s hand between her own. “I can feel your magic. It’s so powerful. If you formed a stable connection with someone I have an affinity with, then I could be bonded with you that way! Your magic is so potent that if you tethered it to a living connection, you could form multiple contracts using other people as anchors!” She jumped up and down excitedly. “Miss Takemi loved the little girl I was bonded to before! And she likes you a lot too! You can use her as a tether.” Alice pressed her cheek to Akira’s hand. “You’re so amazing. You’ll be my Witch forever, Akira. I am thou, and thou art I. I am Alice, the demon of Death. I invoke Tae Takemi as our tether. Tae’s unmarred soul will be the chain that links the bonds of Akira’s magic to my own life force. All entities wishing harm upon Akira Kurusu, my Witch, will face the full force of my devotion!” Alice glowed brightly, clasping her arms around Akira’s waist in a tight hug. There was a meow from behind Akira.

“Go ahead and form a contract with her,” Morgana advised, “Alice’s loyalty to you is so complete that she can’t ever harm you or go against your wishes without destroying herself. Demons entering this high of a pact level are almost unheard of because they don’t want to risk their own lives for others. It’s against their nature. But Alice doesn’t seem to have a typical demon mindset. At least in that regard.”

“If you’re sure that it’s okay…” Akira mumbled. Morgana purred and rubbed against Akira’s leg while Alice held him in place.

“Don’t worry. I’m here to give you all the best advice. You need to listen to me, remember?” Morgana assured him.

“Alice! I am thou, and thou art I. With the bond of Death, we will break all that stagnates, and we will usher in change and renewal to all that should be killed and buried. Rebirth must continue. The fire of my rebellion will use your power to destroy that which refuses to change. We will reform everything,” Akira spoke. Alice snapped her head up to look Akira in the eyes. The love Akira saw in those luminous blue orbs was maniacal and unyielding. But somehow Akira wasn’t afraid. Alice was part of his soul now. Like Arsene, she was part of him now, for better or worse. Alice released Akira from her hold and took his hand.

“C’mon, I’ll show you how to get out of here, okay? Follow us, kitty!” Alice turned and dragged Akira forward, skipping merrily. Morgana grumbled from behind them.

“Kitty? I’m a Familiar! This is simply one of the many forms I choose to take! I could look like whatever I wanted to!”

“Really? You’ll have to shapeshift for me sometime, then,” Akira teased. Morgana ignored his tone and took his words at face value.

“My magic is teleportation, and I can transform into a lot of things that deal with that. Cats are always an accessible form to Familiars, but due to my specialty, I can turn into a lot of things like vehicles too. Cars, motorcycles, even a bus!” Morgana puffed himself up with pride.

“If you say so, kitty!” Alice sang. Morgana’s ears flattened backward in irritation, and he sent her a glare behind her back. Alice led Akira down a flight of stairs, through a blocked off portion of the hospital that had many signs labeling the wing ready for renovation and demolition. Akira thought it would have been impossible for the hospital to look even more dilapidated, but somehow it was worse here than the rest. They took a maintenance lift even farther down and walked through corridors lined with rusted grating along the walls and floors. The place looked more like the inside of a machine than a hospital at this point. Alice stopped suddenly, and let go of Akira’s hand. She pointed ahead of her, to a single door with a flickering light above it at the end of the hallway.

“There! You’ll find your way out through there. I can’t go any further. Not unless you want me to possess you,” she giggled rather mischievously, “Bye, Akira! I’ll see you again soon!” She waved excitedly with both hands, and then turned right back around and skipped off back the way they’d come. Akira let out a heavy breath. He and Morgana exchanged looks before continuing to the metal door Alice had pointed to. It was heavy and took a lot of effort on Akira’s part to pull it open. Inside was pitch black, unnaturally so. The only light being an overhead bulb swinging over what looked to be a morgue table. There was a single hospital body bag on the table, covered with blood.

Akira stepped into the room hesitantly. The door was so heavy it swung shut with a thunderous bang, swathing Akira in darkness, save for that one bulb. Akira slowly walked over towards the body bag. He could have sworn he saw it twitch, or maybe he was just paranoid? Akira reached out for the zipper, hands feeling hot. He unzipped the top of the bag in a fluid motion, all the way to the middle, to reveal his own body inside. Akira felt his insides grow cold. His body was covered in blood to an obscene degree. Akira shook in a full-body tremor. And then the eyes snapped open.

 

* * *

 

 

Akira blinked, and he was sitting up from laying down. He looked around, not recognizing the room he was in. It looked like some sort of supply room. It was spacious, and there was a large rack of tools against the wall opposite to him. Akira noticed other body bags were laying about. Some had dead bodies still inside of them, spilling out as if half-dragged and then forgotten. Akira looked down. He was sitting up out of his own body bag. He had blood caked and dried over the whole front of his clothes and the lower half of his face and neck. It was dried up in rivulets down his arms. He noticed his entire body shaking, he couldn’t be still even if he wanted. He shivered and trembled, and there was an itch at the back of his throat. He curled up, trying to control himself as he curled his arms around his torso in an awkward self-hug. The itching in his throat was unbearable now, and a scream clawed its way out. He yelled and cried until he was hoarse and spent. Until there was nothing left in his body but pure outrage.

“You will pay for this,” Akira hissed under his breath, voice dripping with malice, “I swear you will.” Akira felt a weight at his side and looked down next to him. Morgana sat, staring up at him. He seemed hesitant.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly.

“Not particularly,” Akira replied dryly, “But don’t worry. I will be eventually.” Akira uncoiled himself out of the body bag and slid off the gurney it was placed on. He needed to find a way out of this room. And then he needed to find Doctor Oyamada. And then that son of a bitch needed to die. Akira sighed heavily.

“So, I guess this means I really am immortal. I came back again, even after that bastard stabbed me in the throat.” Akira rubbed his hands over his face, before pulling them away quickly, disgusted at how the dried blood felt as it peeled away from his skin at the motion. “Ugh, this is horrible. And anyway, why are you just now showing up?” Akira rounded back to Morgana. The cat-like creature perked up.

“Why, I’m glad you asked! I was waiting for the right time to come back to you. Traveling through bags is kind of inconvenient if I don’t know where in the whole hospital I was going to pop out of, after all! There wasn’t ever a good time where you were alone, and your hospital room was depressingly bagless. But luckily for you, I could pop out of this body bag since I can immediately teleport to you if you’re in the Realm of the Dead since that’s my home territory. Then I simply followed your presence in limbo to the location of your physical body! It made the transition much smoother. Later I’ll tell you about focusing our senses so that we can know where the other is just by thought. But for now, this will be good enough. I just won’t leave your side again for the time being until you can properly hone your senses to find me. It’s a lot easier for me to find you than the other way around. Your magic is a beacon to my senses. It’s also fortunate for you that magically inclined humans are extremely scarce. Your magic stems from your soul having a direct connection to the Realm of the Dead. I’ve never heard of a Witch having a direct magical link like that before. Most magical power stems from bloodlines or environmental resources, or even sometimes gaining favor with deities and powerful physical realm entities, but never from the Realm of the Dead itself. You’re exceptional even among the rarity of Witches!”

“I didn’t ask for the whole exposition dump, but thanks for the praise, I guess,” Akira replied. He didn’t feel exceptional. He felt like shit. His quick glance around the room told him that the Doctor must bring his victims here under the guise of body bags being taken to the morgue or something similar. He went up the singular rusty door of the room and tried the handle. It was unlocked, thankfully.

“He must not be expecting his dead victims to get up and walk out,” Akira mused to himself, “Unfortunately for him, it’s an oversight we can capitalize on.” Morgana purred and lept down off the table. Akira walked over the scattered body bags on the floor to the tool shelves on the far side of the room. There were various surgical instruments, as well as tools for butchery. Akira took a cleaver off the shelf and examined it. It was dirty with old blood, but Akira could tell the blade wasn’t dull. This would definitely come in handy, so Akira decided to take it with him.

Akira and Morgana walked out of the unlocked door and out into a maintenance passageway going both right and left. It reminded him a lot of the limbo version of the hospital, almost to the point where it jarred his senses and made his insides twist. To the left, there was fencing and a door that looked like it could lead out of this place. There were caution and construction warnings, but they seemed old. This site was slated for demolition sometime soon.

The most significant difference from the limbo version, however, was that there were now bodies draped about and on display on the walls of the hallway to his right side. They were pinned up like insects, their torsos cut open to reveal the organs inside.  Some bodies were only the torso, and the organs were pulled out and displayed as if they were trophies. The Doctor’s sickening tribute to the wonders of the human form, Akira guessed. It made his stomach curl like spoiled milk and bile rise to the back of his throat.

It was then that Akira spied the small form of a child. His eyes widened. A cold fury gripped his heart, and there was deep darkness in the corner of his mind that howled and wailed. It was inhuman grief and demonic rage. Akira could distantly tell he was feeling things that weren’t his own emotions, but they paralleled so perfectly with his soul that they might as well have been. The little girl was dressed up like a prize, torso cut open wide and rib cage cracked open like a macabre cage to display the specimens inside. Akira had to turn away or else he really would throw up this time. She didn’t… Akira’s body started to tremble again… she didn’t deserve this! Why did this have to happen to her? The corpse hadn’t looked too fresh. How long had her body been up there, subjected to this horrible treatment? Akira force himself to walk by her body and not stare. He refused to look at the display, and he could no longer quell the emotions rolling under his skin. It didn’t matter if it was his demons or himself anymore. They were one.

The farther down the hall he went, the more he could hear muffled screaming. His grip on the cleaver’s handle tightened. There were screams and yelling, and as Akira got closer, muffled words and conversation. Akira recognized the loud and hollow tones of Doctor Oyamada. Akira’s heart jumped to his throat when he also recognized the other voice. Takemi, no, he can’t hurt her, he can’t have her! Akira’s thoughts were a whirlwind of static and violent rejection. This was going to end, Akira was finishing this right now. There was a light at the end of the corridor, a door left casually ajar. Akira prowled toward it silently. Arsene’s presence was curled around him like a protective shroud. Akira felt different, his senses were all alight in a way he’d never experienced before, a hyper-awareness as his body was fine-tuned for what was to come. There was an unnatural grace to his movement that didn’t exist before Arsene. It was like the way Akira’s whole body was wired had changed. He stalked forward through the door, crouched low.

Takemi was severely bruised and tied to a chair, glaring up at Oyamada. Her face had been spared a lot of the abuse, but her naked torso told a story of prolonged blunt trauma. It seemed like Oyamada was just wailing on her for now, and Akira didn’t plan on letting him do anything else he might have been waiting to do after that. Takemi spat red on Oyamada’s face.

“The only real scum I’ve ever seen at this hospital is you. How dare you call yourself a doctor? All you ever want to do is harm your patients! You’re nothing but a monster!”

“I’m tired of your self-righteous preaching! It’s thanks to you that I had to go through so much effort to cover my tracks! When you confronted me about Chihiro’s death via her cancer right in the middle of a staff meeting, you almost blew my whole operation! And then bringing up the inconsistencies of the suicide I’d staged around Kurusu after I’d killed him. I knew you were going to be a pain about all of this, I should have realized that I would need to get rid of you first. But it’s all going to be fine. I can still fix this. You’re out of the way now. And I have Kurusu’s body to look forward to after this. I carved him beautiful and sweet, and I’ll enjoy making a cadaver of him later. But now, I need to attend to your carving first. I can take my time to appreciate my work after I know you’re safely dealt with and out of the picture for good.” At the mention of Chihiro’s name, Takemi’s whole face contorted into a snarl. She hissed and screamed and yanked at her binds holding her arms around the back of the chair she was in, and Oyamada was raising his fist to her. Akira moved without thought.

He surged forward, yanking Oyamada to the ground by the back of his shirt. The precious seconds he was stunned gave Akira enough time to shoot down to pin the man by the throat with one hand and swing the butcher’s cleaver down where the doctor’s arm connected to his shoulder. The cut almost severed the limb clean off, but the knife got caught in the socket of his joint. Oyamada gave a rattling wail that was utterly demonic. Akira could sense the foul presence of him almost physically. There was no human left in this man. Akira’s senses tuned on to this signature. It was like a frequency that only he could hear, and he needed to memorize this feeling. There would be others like Oyamada that Akira would need to be able to identify on sight. He couldn’t afford to take as much time with others as he had with Oyamada. Akira understood now, he had to be ready to hunt, because he was being hunted. Akira brought his other hand up to grip around Oyamada’s throat, clenching tightly and almost growling.

“This is payback you piece of shit,” Akira’s voice practically boomed. There was a second voice layered over his own, making it deeper, giving it a sharp edge, not unlike a naked blade. “You don’t belong here. I’m going to kill you and send you straight back to the shithole you crawled out from.”

“No!” Oyamada rattled. Akira jerked the man by his throat and slammed his head into the ground.

“Shut up!” Akira shouted, “You don’t get to speak, you worthless bastard! You’re a Parasite, and you will pay for what you’ve done! I will consume you with the fires of my rebellion!” Akira didn’t even feel it as Oyamada tried to claw at his arm. He just yanked the cleaver back out of the man’s shoulder and quickly moved the hand on his throat to slice downward, putting his weight on to the flat of the blade for more pressure. He nearly beheaded the man,  if not for the edge catching on the man’s spine at the base of his neck. Oyamada gurgled and sputtered, the wet sounds of his severed throat trying to work sounding too loud for Akira’s ears. He stood up and stomped on the flat of the cleaver to make it go the rest of the way through. There was nothing but silence after that.

“Akira!” Morgana piped up, “You need to burn him. Killing the Parasite is the first step, but if you don’t burn the body, the Parasite’s grudge could still haunt the physical realm as a Shade! He needs to be disposed of properly.” Akira had no idea how he could even begin to find a way to set the corpse on fire, but he could feel Arsene thrumming through him like a live wire. All Akira had to do was reach down and just pull. Akira crouched down over Oyamada’s corpse, and the thrumming in his body got stronger, in tune with the pulsing in his ears. He felt the pressure build up along his back until it crested into a violent release of feathers, black wings surging behind him. Black marks appeared on his arms. Arsene was giddy with excitement at consuming the Parasite, and Akira felt it so intensely he let out a chuckle himself. Akira picked up the cleaver and studied it, before sliding the blade over his palm. His blood hissed and bubbled, his body violently erupted into blue flame. Akira reached down to Oyamada’s chest, the fire engulfing them both.

When Arsene was satisfied, Akira released Oyamada, and the flames died abruptly. Akira stood, and the markings were gone, and the wings were gone. Nothing was left but the charred husk of the Parasite and a demon circle scorched around the body. His black soul had been banished was the simplified version of what the circle’s engravings said.

“I need a little help!” Morgana called out. Akira looked over, stunned that he’d almost forgotten Takemi. Morgana was tugging at the ropes around her wrists as best as he could with his mouth. Akira quickly walked over. He pretended not to hurt inside when Takemi flinched at the sight of him coming towards her. She’d been through a lot tonight, and Akira’s little display probably didn’t help. He crouched behind her and undid the ropes quickly. She stumbled out of the chair and onto her feet, breathing heavily and crossing her arms over her chest. Akira took off his shirt and offered it to her wordlessly. It was stiff with old blood, but it was better than nothing. For a few moments, she merely stared at him, and just as Akira was about to lower his arm back, she slowly took the shirt from him.

“I don’t… there are so many questions I have,” Takemi stuttered, still in shock. She mechanically put Akira’s shirt on.

“We don’t have to talk about it right now,” Akira spoke softly, “We need to get out of here, go somewhere safe. Get you cleaned up and all that. You look terrible.” Akira managed to get a startled chuckle from Takemi at that.

“You’re the last person that should be saying that Kurusu,” she replied. Morgana pawed at Akira’s leg.

“I can teleport us,” he offered, “We need to make sure to get out of here unseen. If other people see you looking like this, it’ll be much uglier than your face right now.” Akira nodded.

“It won’t be wise for me to take you back to my own home,” Takemi started to explain, “You were officially confirmed dead this morning. You need to hide somewhere, and I can’t harbor you. When Oyamada’s disappearance hits, whatever he did to get me out of the picture, documents that I’d transferred somewhere or whatever, that’s going to be put under intense questioning when it comes to light that it’s not true. All of this… honestly, I don’t know what to make of it, but no one is going to believe it,” Takemi’s eyes grew cold, “I’m not going to let Oyamada ruin my life any more than he already has. I need to figure out how to cover my own alibi. It’ll be significantly harder since I don’t have the benefit of being presumed dead.” Akira ran a hand through his hair.

“Then I can’t return to my apartment. I don’t even know if I’ll still have it. Anyone that might have known me before and could possibly find out that I’m supposed to be dead… I can’t return to anything or anyone from before my stay at this hospital. A whole new start…” Akira winced. Death was the signal of change, whether you wanted it or not. How fitting that he’d acquired this now, that his unique bond with Takemi and Alice was built upon that concept. His whole life before had been razed, and now he had to be reborn. It was almost poetic, but Akira didn’t feel very appreciative.

“I didn’t say that I wouldn’t help you,” Takemi spoke softly, “Through all of this fucked up shit, I still… I want to thank you for killing Oyamada. He… you must have seen what he did to Chihiro.” Takemi lowered her head and put a hand over her mouth. Her shoulders trembled. “He deserved whatever it was you did to him. I owe it to you to repay you for that, and for saving my life.”

“Life debts are a serious matter,” Morgana chirped, “If a life debt is owed to a Witch, that is. This level of debt, it’ll seal the bonds allowing you to contract Alice pretty much indefinitely. That’s how enormous the debt owed is. Just using the debt for that alone is worth it, but we won’t say no to anything you’d like to offer as well!”

“I’m not even going to question this,” Takemi said, motioning vaguely to Morgana, “I just want to leave here. I can take you to a hole in the wall I know of. I’m very close to the owner of the place, and she’ll let you stay in the room she has upstairs of her bar if you earn your keep. She has a small apartment on the second floor that she lives in, and she has a guest room. She might not be happy about the sudden intrusion but, I can tell Lala-chan will warm up to you quickly. You have a strange way about you, Akira. People are drawn to you, for better or worse. It makes people like you, but it can also inspire the exact opposite. Oyamada, towards the end, he became so oddly fixated on you.” Takemi shivered.

“I’ll let you take me wherever you want,” Akira agreed, “We just need to leave here. Morgana, where can you take us that’ll be secluded enough?”

“Can he take us the right to the bar?” Takemi asked, “On the second floor. No one will be up there while Lala-chan is working since it’s her living quarters.”

“That’s all well and good, but I don’t actually know where it is. Makes it hard to be able to teleport there, huh?” Morgana huffed, “Though I appreciate you two thinking so highly of my abilities.”

“It’s not very safe, but we could just go to my apartment for now, and figure out how to go from there. No one will know who you are, I doubt anyone will know me well enough to recognize I should be dead. It’s not like my death will have mattered to anyone. The only people that may have been informed would be my parents, and they wouldn’t care less. No one should know until it’s reported, and even then, I doubt they’ll cover something as small as one person’s suicide in the news. I should be safe for the day until I can fully disappear,” Akira explained. Takemi didn’t look happy with it, but it was their only option at this point.

“Fine. And then we need to get you to Shinjuku. I’ll be able to get home from there quickly. And I can probably convince Lala-chan to give me a good alibi for the night as well. I spent the whole night after work drinking. Won’t be too hard to spin. I mean… I had just learned about Chihiro’s death this morning. Anyone who knows me well would expect me to be upset about it. I would have left work early, I’d have been so upset. It might not even be out of character to expect I just left without telling anyone. Every other nurse in the Cancer Ward would understand how torn up I would be.” Takemi sighed ruefully.

“And what about all of your bruising and your wounds?” Akira hazarded.

“I can cover that with makeup. Most of it is below the collar anyways. I can self-medicate with painkillers to cover the injuries. He was just punching me mostly, I was lucky he hadn’t wanted to do much else until you showed up. It could have been a lot worse off for me. Just internal bruising, I can tell I don’t have any cracked ribs, thankfully. I’ll need to check myself out to make sure for fractures. I can use the medical university’s labs unsupervised for that.”

“If you can take care of yourself,” Akira responded. Takemi nodded.

“I’ll be fine, Kurusu-san. Worry about yourself more, hm?”

“Okay, we’re going to Akira’s place, right? I know where that is! I was told that your magic will be powerful enough that I won’t even need bags to travel through, so let’s try it out!” Morgana chirped. He clawed up Akira’s leg, wanting to be picked up, and Akira swiftly relented. “Alright, hold on tight to each other! Akira, I’m going to use your magic, okay? Let’s go!” Akira felt a sudden sensation of vertigo wash over him. He blinked, and the room around him melted away, and when he next opened his eyes, his apartment was what greeted him.

 

* * *

 

 

They spent only precious moments on showering and cleaning up. Akira lent Takemi some of his spare clothing to change into.

“I’ll give them back to you in a day or two. After I go home, and you’ve settled down with Lala-chan,” Takemi promised him, “It wouldn’t do to have some of your clothing when an investigation is inevitably started over Oyamada’s disappearance.” Akira shrugged in response. It was late afternoon when they stepped out of Akira’s apartment, Morgana huddled carefully into a shoulder bag Akira held. Easier transportation that way.

“You should buy some fake glasses or something,” Morgana whispered to him from the opening created by the zipper at the top, “You never know, it might help?” Takemi, who was walking close enough beside Akira down the streets to hear Morgana, snorted.

“It might not hurt,” she agreed, but there was a small smile on her face like she found the suggestion amusing. Akira grabbed a cheap pair of plain black glasses with wide frames and thick rims at the next street shop they passed. They took a crowded subway train, and Takemi led him out at the stop to Shinjuku.

“You’re gonna have me stay at a bar in the red-light district?” Akira asked with a raised eyebrow. Takemi missed it because she didn’t even spare him a glance.

“Just follow me. It’s just right down the street here. Keep your head down,” She replied. They walked through the front door into a boisterous neon-lit bar scene. Drunk customers were seated along barstools at the counter to the right, and at the left, there were booths with glittering privacy curtains. A large woman in a kimono with bright purple hair was serving drinks behind the bar counter. She looked up and grinned when she saw Takemi walk through the door, but then quickly frowned. She must have seen something in Takemi’s expression that troubled her. She immediately cast suspicious eyes on Akira himself. He looked away from her piercing gaze and sighed.

“Tae-chan, what’s the matter, sweetie? You need something?” the woman asked in a husky smoker’s voice, pitched low, when Takemi walked up to the bar to greet her.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. I need a huge favor, Lala-chan,” Takemi greeted in a tired, soft voice, “But I don’t want to ask right now. We can wait until you’re closed.” Lala-chan frowned but agreed.

“I’ll close earlier than usual then. I don’t want you waiting here until the wee hours of the morning. It seems like this is pretty important.” Takemi sat down at one of the booths and Akira sat with her, placing his shoulder bag carefully down on the seat so Morgana could poke his head out and stretch out onto Akira’s lap a bit.

“Will they really help us?” Morgana stretched up to Akira’s shoulder to whisper in his ear. The bar was loud enough that he might not have had to bother with the precaution, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

“I hope so,” was all Akira said in reply. In the neon lights of the bar, Takemi slouched over on the table on her elbows, she looked wan and haggard. She stared down at the tabletop with a severe expression, lost in her own thoughts. Akira hesitantly reached out to the hand she had on the table and placed his own over it.

“Hey,” he said softly, and she startled at both his voice and the touch. Akira held her gaze, “You’ll make it through this, I promise you. It won’t be easy, but I know you haven’t given up yet.” Takemi stared for a moment, before pursing her lips and nodding.

“I’ll probably quit the hospital as soon as I can without being suspicious. I don’t think I could stand being there any longer. Not after… with Chihiro, I mean. I’m still going to keep studying and developing medicine at the university, don’t get me wrong. I haven’t given up like you said. There are still more people like Chihiro out there, other kids that are suffering. She wouldn’t have wanted me to stop,” Takemi confessed with determination, “I might start a local clinic, maybe. Take a break from large hospitals. Try and help as many people around me as I can, be an affordable option for those in need. I haven’t really thought it all out yet, but it’s something that I’ve started to want to work towards." Akira nodded and removed his hand.

“She really did love you, y’know,” Akira told her quietly, “She wanted you to know that. And that she didn’t want you to be sad for her. She wanted to see you happy.” Well, Alice disguised as Chihiro had said those things, but it was still Chihiro’s wishes. Akira felt Takemi needed to hear these words. Takemi’s eyes glassed over, and she bit her lip.

“Can you… communicate with her?” She asked in a whisper.

“No. She reached out to me before, in the hospital, and tried to warn me about Oyamada. I didn’t understand at the time. But I think she’s beyond now.” Takemi nodded at his response and looked away. She inhaled a ragged breath and winced. Akira knew she must be in a lot of pain, but she hid it very well. Akira supposed she must know how to dull pain well enough.

“I owe you so much. You saved my life, you avenged Chihiro, put her soul to rest. It all feels like a fucked up nightmare, but it was real. And you really did all that…”

“It has to be a secret that I can do these things,” Akira told her gravely.

“Of course. Who would even believe me anyway?” Takemi retorted dryly. But Akira knew she was serious about it, she wouldn’t say anything. The end of the night came after a long while of waiting, and a cheery woman with a bob cut and round sunglasses on her head waltzed in just as Lala-chan was shoo'ing customers to close early.

“Whaaaat? Lala-chan, you can’t be done for the night yet! I need my fix! Don’t cut me off now!” she whined, sounding and looking ten years younger than she probably was. She glanced around and saw Takemi in the booth and her eyes lit.

“Tae-chan! You’re here! I haven’t seen you in fucking weeks. Where the hell have you been?” She launched out, walking over to the booth. She looked Takemi over and frowned, eyebrows furrowing as she examined her from head to toe. She glanced over and then saw Akira sitting on the other side of the booth she couldn’t see from the door.

“Eh, who are you?” She asked in a much more hostile manner, probably seeing Takemi’s state and not liking the conclusions she reached.

“Ichiko-chan,” Takemi sighed softly, “Please, don’t ask so many questions. It’s… I can’t really explain everything.” They were the only people in the bar now, Lala-chan locked the front door and walked up to stand by Ichiko at the foot of the booth, effectively trapping them in.

“You’re not gonna spill to your own girlfriend?” Lala-chan chided her, “You know she asked me for a favor when she walked in. She never does that.”

“What?” Ichiko screeched, “Now I really need to know what’s going on!”

“Fine. Akira here is one of the patients I was watching in the Suicide Unit. Doctor Oyamada has been using his position at the hospital as a front to find victims to murder for his own sick enjoyment. He killed Chihiro,” her strong voice cracked at that last sentence, “and he had kidnapped me and was planning on killing both me and Akira. And then Akira…” she trailed off, running out of steam and looking distressed. Ichiko’s angry expression immediately melted into loving concern, and she crouched down beside Takemi and took her hand into her own.

“Tae… babe. What the hell?” She asked softly, eyes shining with concern.

“I killed Oyamada,” Akira spoke up neutrally. Was it wrong that he was numb inside and didn’t really feel anything over what had happened to himself? He mostly just felt livid at the suffering Takemi and Chihiro went through, and hatred for Oyamada. But other than that, he was just tired and numb. “I killed him before he could kill Takemi.”

“There are… other things as well,” Takemi spoke again, “but that’s the gist of it. Akira needs a space where he can lay low. So, I brought him here.” Ichiko’s head snapped up to look at Akira. She stood up and bowed quickly.

“Thank you so much for saving her!” she cried out, hands trembling. She straightened up, her face was red, and her eyes were watery. “I don’t even know where to begin with all of this.”

“You want him to stay here?” Lala-chan asked smoothly. Akira looked up at her stern expression. She’d been watching him the whole time.

“If that’s possible, it was the first thing I’d thought of,” Takemi confessed, “But we can think of something else if we need to.” Akira shrugged. He was sure he could find a hotel to live out of or something. It’d be weird probably, but he could do it. Lala-chan sighed.

“He won’t be living here for free, he’s going to work here at my bar. You already know I’ve been contemplating getting a server here to help me out. I’ve been getting overwhelmed with business recently. I’ll house you in the spare bedroom of my apartment upstairs, but you have to work hard and most importantly not cause trouble for my customers or me.”

“Yes ma’am,” Akira replied dutifully. Something about her stern attitude was kinder than how Akira had ever been spoken to in the past. He wasn’t off-put by her concerns as much as he thought he would be, after being treated the same way by others for so long. Maybe it was because her face was a little soft with concern. It felt good to have people who cared about him. He must not look that great either, what with the whole dying thing. Though Takemi had the worse end of the deal, and he’d rather that she got more attention now.

“Don’t worry Lala-chan,” Ichiko announced, “I’m taking Tae home right this instant. She’s hurt badly.” Takemi opened her mouth to protest, but Ichiko shushed her. “Don’t try to stop me. I’ve been your girlfriend for a long time, and I know when you’re trying to put on a tough act. I can see right through you, y’know.” She looked over to Akira and held out her hand. “Ohya Ichiko, at your service. I’m an ace reporter and don’t worry, I’ll be sure to keep an eye out on newspaper circulation for you. If that dickhead Oyamada was trying to kill my Tae, then he deserved whatever you gave him. I’m not gonna let you go down for that if I can help it. Tae means too much to me.” Akira took her offered hand and shook it.

“Thanks for the concern, but I don’t think you’ll have to look out too much for me. Just focus on helping Takemi out, and that’ll be enough. Oyamada had faked my suicide to kidnap me, so I’ve been officially pronounced dead. My second suicide, I mean, not the one that landed me in the hospital in the first place. Anyway, I don’t think my involvement will be an issue.” Ohya raised an impressed eyebrow.

“You don’t have to tell me to take care of Tae, I’ll do it without anyone asking,” she replied, but had a wide grin on her face. “It depends on how long it’ll take for the disappearance to be deemed worthy of investigation. But there will be one, so I’ll keep my ears peeled when the cops finally show up. Then after that, It'll be a matter of keeping tabs on police activity. Nothing I haven’t done before, a piece of cake.” Akira nodded, grateful that Ohya was so cooperative. She seemed like a force of nature to deal with.

“There won’t be anyone that will come for your body,” Lala-chan spoke up, “No family to collect you or perform a funeral?” Akira’s expression darkened, and he quickly looked away. Morgana stared up at him at his side. His bright eyes were soothing and full of understanding. Akira began to wonder if Morgana learned things about him when he became his Familiar, or if he could read Akira’s feelings somehow.

“I don’t have any family that would be concerned about doing a funeral for me,” Akira confessed, “I’ve been disowned for many years. No one is going to come looking for me, I can promise you that.” Morgana buried his head to Akira’s chest.

“Well,” Lala-chan continued, unaffected, “that settles it then. You’ll be staying with me, honey, I’m not worried about you. You’ll live and work here if you need to, so you shouldn’t have any concerns. We take care of our own, Akira-chan.” Akira tossed her a lopsided grin.

“Thank you,” He said sincerely. Lala-chan nodded.

“Let’s get you settled in. Ichiko-chan you need to take Tae-chan home and taken care of.” Ohya nodded and helped Takemi stand from her booth seat. Akira followed Lala-chan around the counter to a back door that led to some stairs up to a second floor.

“Oh, I have a cat, also,” Akira mentioned, though he was sure everyone had seen Morgana cuddling up to him in the booth, “He’s very well trained, so he won’t be a problem.” Lala-chan turned and reached her hand out to Akira’s shoulder bag where Morgana had his head poke out. He looked reluctant to let her pet him but started purring almost immediately from the attention. Akira chuckled.

“No, dear, he won’t be a problem at all. Outcasts like us must take care of each other because no one else will. We should get some food for you boys, huh? Just follow me.” Akira followed her up the stairs. There wasn’t much to put up in the spare bedroom, Akira didn’t have a lot of possessions except some clothing. Lala-chan made a delicious late-night breakfast, and they shared it together. Akira felt much better after that, but he knew that this peace wouldn’t last. He had to be ready for the next Parasite, whoever and whatever it would be. And he needed to make sure to take care of them quickly. He didn’t want anyone else to go through what Takemi had gone through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings:  
> Descriptions of gore and violence  
> Murder  
> Physical abuse  
> basically the Kamoshida chapter but worse :P


	9. Blood Red Summer (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiho gets some much-needed love and attention, and then the plot thickens once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is up! Not much to say about this one. No warnings.

_Faint white figures paint my sleep_  
_Please don’t tell my secrets, keep them hidden_  
_(you got it, you got it, you got it)_  
_If the words that matter reach your face from floor_  
_Will you be wondering if, or_  
_(Do I need what is given or honest?)_  
_Does it cost me scarring if the words stay true?_  
_Even number for your nephew_  
_(I don’t want it, don’t want it, don’t want it anymore)_

 

* * *

 

 

“Wait, you mean Takemi as in my doctor? The one that owns the clinic just a street over from our house?” Futaba asked, “You never told me you two knew each other! And I’ve been going to see her for two years now, ever since… well…” Futaba trailed off uncomfortably. Akira nodded.

“She started looking after you at my request, and once I recommended her to Sojiro to treat you for your panic attacks and crashes. She was the only one I trusted to look after you,” Akira confessed to her. There was a couple of months after Futaba’s mother died where Futaba was… not healthy. Futaba knew her mental health was damaged, but back then Futaba could barely make herself function. She had been in so much pain all the time, and it wasn’t always physical. Sojiro had tried very hard, and Futaba still thought about how she had treated him back then, how he had tried to understand and help her but didn’t know how. Futaba had been sinking farther and farther into herself and away from the outside world and the one person she had left that cared for her.

And then… there was some trouble with Futaba’s uncle that she was sure of, but that time of her life was still fuzzy, even though it wasn’t but two years ago. But Futaba’s uncle had eventually stopped harassing her and Sojiro, and she’d met Akira not too long after that, and started seeing Takemi about her health almost immediately. Thinking back on it now, it was almost uncanny how quickly Sojiro had begun trusting Akira when they’d first met. Futaba supposed she hadn’t wanted to give it too much thought. When Akira entered her life, everything had gotten better.

“I hope you all understand how dangerous your situation is now,” Akira looked them all in the eyes sternly, “And that you need to stick together and protect each other. Kamoshida was nothing like Oyamada at all. Kamoshida was much more brazen about his abuse than Oyamada had ever been. Parasites know how to appear as charming, friendly people. They know how to manipulate and hide, to take and get what they want without drawing suspicion to themselves. I have no idea how long Oyamada had been kidnapping and murdering people as a doctor at Itō Hospital, but with the number of bodies I’d seen, it had to have been a long time. And during that whole time, no one had ever suspected anything of him, whereas Kamoshida didn’t bother to hide much at all. That’s the kind of monsters you’re dealing with.

“I had been under the assumption that I’d killed every Parasite that manifested here in Tokyo, that there weren’t anymore and I was free from whatever curse that had been placed upon me. And I don’t even know if I’m still immortal, but I’m not giving anything a chance to test that. Someone out there is making Parasites. They are somehow capable of ripping down already twisted people to their most warped desires and then letting it consume them. Like Kamoshida, newly formed Parasites will be the easiest to spot, because they are perverse people that don’t know how to hide it yet. But I can’t stress enough that there isn’t any guarantee that they’ll all be as easy to spot as him.

“As much as I would like to, I can’t always be there with you. If you’re suspicious of anyone at all, you need to get to a public place, or run away and contact me when you’re safe. I don’t know if Parasites will be drawn to you three the same as they are to me, but just by associating with me you’re at a much higher risk of being targeted. It should be less so if I’m not around you, but I don’t want to take any chances. Especially you, Futaba.” Futaba gulped. Ryuji and Ann nodded to Akira in understanding, not trusting themselves to speak. Futaba understood that as Akira’s family, she was in the most danger out of all of them, save for Akira himself.

“Akira,” Futaba started hesitantly, “my uncle had been harassing Sojiro and me to the point of stalking almost immediately after… after my mom… I mean… So, was he a… Parasite? He disappeared pretty much right after I’d met you, too.” Akira looked away from her and down at the floor, a sour expression on his face.

“I promise I’ll explain everything to you eventually,” he spoke, “but I think this is a good place to stop for now. But to answer your question: yes, he was a Parasite. And yes, I was the one who got rid of him. That much I’ll at least clear up for you right now.”

“So,” Ryuji spoke up, “You worked at a bar, then? That’s pretty cool.”

“And your glasses are fake?” Ann asked incredulously, “You’ve been committed to wearing a pair of fake glasses for over two years?”

“I didn’t even know he didn’t need glasses,” Futaba grumbled, “some big brother you are. You couldn’t even tell me that?”

“I’ve been wearing them for so long it just became habit. I don’t even really think about it anymore. By the point we met, I’d become so used to wearing them that it wasn’t something I had thought ever to bring up,” Akira confessed sheepishly.

“Enough about the fake glasses! Akira, you worked at a bar in Shinjuku! That’s so effing rad,” Ryuji exclaimed. Ann rolled her eyes.

“Why are you so impressed by that? Is it because it’s in the Red-Light District? You’re such a perv, Ryuji,” she snarked, apparently not amused.

“Hey, I think being a barkeeper and being able to mix drinks and stuff is interesting!” Ryuji defended himself.

“The Crossroads in Shinjuku,” Akira chuckled, “It’s still there, in fact, and it’s still run by Lala-chan. She, Ohya, and Takemi are still close friends of mine, and we do keep in touch. Not as much now as two years ago, but we exchange messages. Takemi I see very frequently, of course, her being Futaba’s doctor at the local clinic. I’ll be messaging Ohya tonight as well to update her on the situation and see if she has heard anything suspicious lately. She learned about my case and Parasites not long after the whole mess with Takemi personally.

“Takemi and I were both reluctant to talk about that night, and I was hesitant to explain to anyone about my powers as a Witch or the complicated mess that I was caught up in if they didn’t need to know. But Ohya had her own run-in with a Parasite, about a month after that night we’d met. After that, there was no secret I could keep from her. Takemi has a vague knowledge of my dealings; she just knows that Parasites aren’t human anymore and that I have to kill them. But Ohya is the one that knows the most about everything besides myself. She wouldn’t rest until I told her everything about where Parasites come from and the origin of my powers. Only Sojiro knows more than her now, as of tonight. But that should be all for now; I need to make sure the three of you get home safely. The story of my second Parasite can wait.”

The three of them reluctantly agreed, it had gotten pretty late after all. Akira accompanied Futaba back home and then left with Ryuji and Ann to escort them to their houses too. When Futaba entered the living room, she was surprised to see Sojiro sitting on the couch. It looked like he’d been up waiting for her to return.

“Futaba…” he started, and then stopped, trailing off into silence. He got up from the couch and pulled Futaba into a firm hug. It surprised her, so she stiffened for a few seconds, but eventually relaxed and hugged him back.

“Sojiro?” she questioned, her voice muffled in Sojiro’s chest.

“I know I don’t express it a lot. But I feel like I need to tell you. I consider you my own daughter, you know? I wanted you to know I love you. You, and Akira, and even Morgana too. We’re all a family now. And I know Wakaba is very proud of the person you’ve become, too. I think you need to hear that,” Sojiro spoke gruffly like he was holding back tears. Futaba knew that Akira had shared something with him tonight that had shaken Sojiro down to his core. Would Futaba understand what Akira had told Sojiro eventually too?

“I love you too… dad,” Futaba responded. Sojiro hugged her tighter, before letting go.

“Please promise me that you’ll do anything Akira asks you to. He’s the only one that can keep you safe if anything were to target you. I don’t know if Akira told you, but Youji, your ‘uncle’ was a Parasite. Akira helped us out and killed him before he could do anything to hurt you. He’d been stalking and planning to attack you, and Akira had been following him under suspicion he was a Parasite. He prevented Youji from ever accomplishing anything he’d been planning to do to us.

“And now… Akira told me there would be more Parasites like Youji around. He confessed to me that there could be a chance they would target you for being close to Akira. I’m not going to lie to you, Futaba. I’m scared for you. I’m sure you understand just what Parasites are capable of, that nothing is sacred to them, that they will do anything and everything to hurt and torture you. I need you to promise me that you won’t take any unnecessary risks, that you’ll tell Akira if you ever suspect anything is wrong, even a little, with anyone around you. And most importantly, that you’ll listen if Akira ever tells you to run away or hide. He swore on his life he would protect you, Futaba. I don’t understand much about magic, but I’m pretty sure he invoked something powerful. And I believe him; I believe that he has the power to protect you. But you need to do what he tells you to, okay?”

“I understand, Sojiro. Akira explained a lot tonight. Not everything, but it was enough to get the message across. I’m not underestimating anyone or anything around me. And I promise I’ll come to him with anything going on from now on, okay? I’m… I’m sorry I worried you. About all the stuff that happened with Kamoshida. I didn’t realize… I had no idea how much worse it could have gotten for us…” Futaba swore.

“I know, kid. It’s enough for me now that you’re safe. And I’ll always worry about you, but it helps to know that you’re better prepared and that you understand how dangerous this situation is.” Futaba nodded vigorously.

“Believe me, I do. And…” Futaba hesitated for a second, “Thanks for always being there for me, even when I didn’t recognize it.”

“Are you still beating yourself up for how you were after Wakaba passed? I’ve never held anything against you, and I never will. You don’t have to worry about any of that, okay Futaba?” Sojiro reassured her.

“Okay. I’m going to go to bed now. Good night… dad.”

 

* * *

 

 

Futaba couldn’t hear herself breathe, couldn’t feel herself existing over the sounds of the death wails around her. She registered precious little but the cacophonous cries and could barely discern her surroundings when her brain was so muddled. Was she standing in a tunnel, tripping over train tracks beneath her feet? Was the harsh red around her blood or just bad lighting? She couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Futaba was so disoriented that she almost ran into a figure standing straight in front of her. A tall older man with glasses and a bowl-cut. If Futaba had been in her right mind, she would have judged him hard for his choice in hairstyle.

“Please,” the figure gave a ghastly wheeze, “help me! You must free me! Avenge me!” He reached out his hands to grasp at her, but Futaba flinched away out of instinct and ran around the man. His pleas were lost to the sea of noise behind her as she found herself running forward. Where was the exit to this hell? She saw a second person ahead of her and was prepared to dodge around to get away. This figure tried to grasp for her, too. It was younger, a girl, and she cried out piteously.

“Why did I have to die? He told me I had so much promise! He said I had talent, that I had a gift! So why did I end up like this? Why did I end up used and thrown away?” she screamed. Futaba kept running. There was a third figure blocking her path farther down, and this time Futaba felt compelled to stop instead of trying to go around. She was an older woman, slender with long black hair framing a round, ghostly white face, with dark eyes. She did not grasp for Futaba but instead held her hands out palms up in harmlessness.

“I care not for my own fate,” she moaned softly, “All I care for is my son. Please, you must save him! Harbored by my killer, I fear he will meet a terrible fate! Blessed child, you can hear the cries of the dead, you can sense those with the stench of death on them. You must save my son! Deliver him from the evil that keeps him chained! I cannot rest until he is free!” Futaba quaked to the core at the sincerity of the woman’s love for her child.

“I want to help, I really do,” Futaba told her, “But I have no clue who you or your son are, or where he even is. What’s his name? What does he look like? Please tell me!”

“My precious son!” the woman cried, “My sweet baby! Yu – “

Futaba woke with a jolt, sitting upright in her bed. She was covered in a cold sweat, her bedsheets damp. She felt cold, but her head felt hot. She hoped she wasn’t coming down with a fever or anything. Futaba shivered and cursed. What the hell was that dream? She remembered being trapped in a train tunnel of some sort. The broken prayers of a devoted mother still echoed in her head. And of course, right when the woman seemed about to tell Futaba her son’s name, the dream had ended. What a typical story trope, Futaba thought to herself. Nothing could be easy. And another concerning thing, her dreamscape bore a close resemblance to Akira’s description of his trip through the Realm of the Dead. But Futaba didn’t understand how she could slip into that place in her dreams. Didn’t you have to die to go there? The mother had said Futaba could hear dead people and sense death, whatever that meant.

Futaba shook herself from these thoughts. Worrying about all of this wouldn’t do her any good if she couldn’t figure out the answers. She’d have to tell Akira what she saw. It had been about a month since their dealings with Kamoshida, and nothing of note had happened yet. The whole group was jumpy and on edge ever since hearing Akira’s story. She, Ryuji, and Ann did everything together and never went out alone without one of the others with them, and usually only whenever Akira was free to accompany them. Even today, when Ann had finally been able to clear a visit to Shiho’s physical therapy, she made sure that Futaba, Ryuji, and Akira could all come with her. Ann had been chomping at the bit to see Shiho this whole time, but their safety was also the most important. Futaba figured Ann didn’t want to risk anything happening anywhere near Shiho, which was why she was probably so adamant that Akira had to come with them too. Akira was paradoxically the worst and safest person to be with, after all.

But Futaba liked to think the odds were in Akira’s favor if anything were to happen.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m so relieved your physical therapy is going so well,” Ann chatted with Shiho. They were sitting together in one of the therapy rooms, and Shiho’s session had just ended. Futaba sat typing away on her laptop on a chair in the corner for most of the time, and Ryuji had taken an interest in some of the equipment. He’d even had a rather animated conversation with Shiho about doing therapy for his leg. Akira sat watching over them next to Futaba, and Morgana was curled up asleep in his bag underneath his chair.  After he learned he couldn’t be seen, and therefore couldn’t curl up on Ann’s lap, he resigned himself not to be awake to mourn the lost opportunity.

“I mean, I know it’s difficult and physically demanding, but I’m just glad that you’re recovering. Any progress at all is good progress,” Ann was babbling at this point, but Futaba could tell it was all for the sake of saying anything that would lift Shiho’s spirits. Shiho had dark circles under her eyes and a perpetually exhausted look on her face, but she had a small smile as she regarded her closest friend.

“I know what you’re trying to say, Ann. Thank you. I don’t think I would have made it this far without you constantly cheering me on,” Shiho confessed. Ann looked away with a bitter smile on her face.

“You wouldn’t be in this situation at all if it weren’t for me,” she mumbled. Shiho’s expression flashed dangerously.

“Don’t you dare say that, Ann. Everything I endured, I did it thinking that I had some chance of persuading Kamoshida to keep his hands off you. I would have suffered any punishment he thought to give me if it meant that I was sparing you the same fate,” Shiho’s voice started to tremble, “But in the end, nothing I did had mattered one bit. I didn’t prevent him from doing anything to you. I was just his punching bag to take his frustrations out on. I couldn’t even protect you at all…”

“No, stop!” Ann pleaded, “It was me that couldn’t do anything for you! I thought, all that time, that Kamoshida would stop hurting you if I just did what he wanted. I thought I was protecting your dream and your volleyball team position by letting him do all those things. It was me who was the useless one, not you!” Ann was close to tears at this point, and her hands were clenched in her lap to keep herself from trembling.

“If you don’t mind me saying,” Ryuji spoke up, “Kamoshida was a shitty person that did shitty things to the both of you. It was his fault that you were ever in this position, to begin with. At least you weren’t like me and fucked everything up by trying to fight the guy. What matters is that you both cared about each other, and no matter what happened, you just wanted to protect one another. I don’t think that you should lose sight of that fact. It helps to know you had something real to fight for, y’know? It makes all the bullshit worth it.”

“I – Wow, Ryuji. That was cool,” Ann replied. Ryuji’s face flushed red.

“Oh, shut up. I just didn’t want to hear any more of you two putting yourselves down over that scum. I mean, Kamoshida got what he deserved in the end, and you two are free from him. So, the best thing to do now is try and move forward as best as you can, right?” Ann nodded, but Shiho tilted her head.

“What happened to Kamoshida?” She asked. Ryuji’s eyes went wide, and Futaba could practically hear him sweating. Ann recovered quicker than he did.

“Well, we don’t know anything for sure,” she started slowly, and Futaba could tell it took physical effort for her to keep her eyes on Shiho and not send a glare over to Ryuji, “but he hasn’t been to school since you… well…” Ann fumbled awkwardly, “But, the point is that he’s disappeared, and no one knows where he went. There’s been police to Shujin and everything, investigating where he might have gone to. So, we were just hoping that he dropped off the face of the Earth or died or something like that.” Shiho looked down at the floor, her bangs obscuring her eyes.

“I hope he died,” she muttered darkly. Ryuji swallowed, but Ann smiled warmly.

“The most important thing is that he’s never going to hurt you or anyone else ever again,” she spoke cheerfully.

“That reminds me,” Shiho replied, “I’ve been putting off telling you, I didn’t know how you’d take it, but… my parents want me to attend a different school when I’m released from hospital therapy.” Ann’s smile withered, but she nodded.

“No, I understand. It’d probably be difficult for you to come back to Shujin, anyways. It’s better if you didn’t have to worry about students talking behind your back or harassing you. And it’s not like we won’t be able to hang out or talk or anything! I’ll still be there for you, Shiho, I promise. I’ll always be here for you.”

“I… thank you, Ann,” was all Shiho said, but she reached out to hold one of Ann’s hands. Futaba saw Ann squeeze Shiho’s hand back, and the two of them shared emotional looks.

“Gay,” Futaba whispered under her breath fondly. “I also want to say that you’re still welcome over at Leblanc anytime,” she spoke up, so they could hear her. Ann nodded vigorously.

“That’s right! The three of us still need to have that sleepover together! A real one this time, where we can all have fun!” Futaba resolved not to tell Morgana if they ever made any plans. He’d be insufferable unless Futaba let him stay over if he knew. She looked over her shoulder up at Akira.

“That’s still okay, right?” she asked.

“I’m not going to say no,” Akira teased her, “you three deserve to have a fun night together.” Shiho’s face flushed.

“Thank you, Futaba. I’m glad we all became friends,” she confessed.

“You can thank yourself for that. I probably wouldn’t have talked to anyone if you hadn’t talked to me first,” Futaba told her. The remark got a giggle out of Ann and a snort from Ryuji.

Eventually, they had to end their visit, but Futaba was happy to note that Shiho was looking remarkably better by the time they all parted ways. If anyone deserved a boost, it was her. They made their way to the subway station to make their way back to Yongen-Jaya. Exams had just ended, and Akira promised to treat everyone to curry for studying so hard. Even Ryuji was in better spirits than usual after all the testing they’d done.

After that first night where Ryuji had worried his mother, he’d been grounded for a little like Futaba had been. But once Akira had started helping Ryuji get home, and the two of them had met, study sessions had become frequent between the three students. Akira was there to make sure that actual studying was happening as well. Futaba attributed Ryuji’s mother’s change in attitude to Akira’s charm with older women. The guy didn’t even seem to try; he was just a naturally smooth gentleman. Akira confessed that it was probably Arsene’s influence. He never used to be this charming before he’d made a contract with him.

“Hey, Akira, that reminds me,” Futaba started, “I had a bizarre dream last night. I think… I saw the subway tunnel from your death visions.” Akira turned towards her quickly.

“What?” he spoke, clearly concerned.

“Dude, that’s creepy as hell,” Ryuji muttered.

“I don’t really understand it much myself, but I dreamed I was there. And I saw... people. Or at least, what I thought were people. They could have been ghosts? They were talking like they were already dead, and they were all asking me for help. One of them even talked about wanting to be avenged; it was pretty creepy.” Futaba shuddered. Akira’s frown deepened farther the more he heard.

“But the strangest thing was the woman I saw right before I woke up. She wanted me to help save her son from someone, I think. I don’t know what to make of all of it.”

“I’d be cautious. If you really are dreaming about the Realm of the Dead, then Igor might try and contact you. The last thing I want is you getting his attention. I couldn’t handle it if he tried to mess with you in any way,” Akira hissed.

“You must have some magical gift,” Morgana mumbled from Akira’s bag, “The ability to see through the veil like that, even if it’s just in dreams, is common for Witches. Even people who have no magical talent can contact the dead with the right tools. But for spirits to come to you unprompted and unaided like that, and for you to be able to slip into that realm so easily, the gift is unnaturally dominant with you. As Akira said, I’d be pretty suspicious of where this ability is coming from.”

“We can talk more about it later at Leblanc,” Akira spoke. They could hear the subway train approaching, and such a public space wasn’t the best place to be talking about such things. Futaba nodded, and they all turned to anticipate boarding their train. She felt a shiver along her back and had the distinct impression someone was staring at her. She discreetly looked around, trying to pinpoint where this sensation was coming from.

“What’s wrong?” Ann murmured to her.

“I don’t… It feels like someone’s watching me,” Futaba whispered to her. Ann grabbed Futaba’s hand.

“Stick close to us,” Ryuji said from her other side. Akira was standing protectively behind her. They all boarded the train, but the sensation didn’t leave. Now Ann was starting to look around as well, and Futaba saw someone at the far end of the train that caught her eye. His black hair – almost blue in the right light – and pale, angular face sent a jolt through her body. She was confident he was following them. There was also a nagging in the back of her head that he seemed somehow familiar? But she was entirely sure she’d never seen this guy before in her life. There was something about him that set her on edge.

“Him?” Ann asked, catching her staring. Futaba looked away quickly and down to the floor, nodding.

“Yeah, I think so.” Akira stiffened behind her, like a caged animal ready to snap. It had been hard to wrap her brain around it before, even after seeing him kill Kamoshida, that Akira was a fine-tuned weapon, a naked blade with no sheath. But seeing this protectiveness, she was starting to honestly realize that Akira was prepared to go to any lengths to protect them. Even in this crowded subway full of innocent bystanders, he looked like he’d still lunge for a kill if it were a Parasite trying to grab at Futaba. The sentiment both endeared and frightened her. Akira was kind, but he was also ruthless when it was necessary. Futaba supposed she should find that comforting.

They all got off at Shibuya to make the next line transfer and going up the escalator; Ann shuffled uncomfortably.

“Oh my god! That guy got off the train with us!” She hissed.

“C’mon,” Akira murmured and pulled them to walk up faster. When they reached the top, Akira lead them up more stairs and onto street level.

“We should confront him here, to make sure,” he told them. Ann nodded, and Futaba linked their arms together. Ryuji circled to lean against a storefront wall a little out of sight, Akira beside him. Futaba felt nervous with her back turned like this, but Ann’s presence beside her was strong and comforting. She turned when Ann glanced behind them and gasped, and came face to face with the boy from the train, his hand was outstretched to them. In an instant, Akira was right in between them, almost completely blocking the boy from Futaba’s line of sight. The boy let out a startled gasp, not noticing Akira approach either. Ryuji was seconds behind.

“Yo, this the stalker dude?” He spoke with no tact whatsoever. Ann huffed, pointing from behind Akira.

“What is your problem, huh? Following us onto the train like that?”

“Stalking? I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” he spoke back calmly, “But please, don’t move.” He stepped back and put his hands up, looking at them through raised fingers.

“What the hell? Is this some gang thing?” Ryuji mumbled under his breath. Futaba was thinking more along the lines of some otaku thing, but she would know the reference if that was the case.

“No, no,” the boy tsk’d, and practically shouldered Ryuji out of the way before going back to what he was doing, “There, this is the scene I wanted to create! I saw you from the car, and I knew I had to seek this inspiration no matter what!”

“Is this guy for real?” Ryuji hissed. Futaba frowned, clinging to Akira’s arm on one side. She didn’t feel any danger coming from the guy, but there was definitely something… off. Like a residual off-putting odor or something. It was the strangest sensation Futaba had ever felt.

“The striking image of a dark guardian angel watching over two goddesses,” the boy murmured to himself, “It’s positively perfect!” Ryuji didn’t know whether to be relieved or offended he wasn’t included in the vision. A black car slowly came to a stop beside them, and the back window rolled down to reveal an elderly man with long greying hair tied back.

“There you are, Yusuke! I was wondering where your passions led you! And I must say, you have a talented eye,” the man called from the car, a smile on his face and a loud laugh tumbling from his lips. The boy, Yusuke, turned as if startled.

“Ah, Madarame-sensei. I didn’t mean to run off. But I had to catch up,” Yusuke swiftly turned back to them, and even had the balls to look Akira straight in the face before bowing, “Please! You’re just who I’ve been searching for all this time!”

“What the fuuuuuck,” Ryuji wheezed underneath his breath. Ann stood with her mouth agape.

“Please, I would be honored if you would model for my next art piece!” Yusuke practically shouted.

“M-model?” Futaba stammered, completely unprepared. Ann closed her mouth and frowned.

“Art piece?” she asked.

“I feel a passion from you unlike anyone else I’ve ever met!” Yusuke continued unfazed and still bowing. Futaba didn’t think it would be appropriate to laugh, but boy did she want to.

“Stop bending over like that, Inari-face,” she teased him. Yusuke shot straight back up, staring at her.

“I-inari?”

“Yeah, you have this squinty fox-face. So, Inari. Duh,” Futaba rolled her eyes.

“Woah, Futaba, you roasted him,” Ryuji replied, impressed.

“I’ll beg if I have to,” Yusuke spoke calmly, “Will you cooperate with me?” Ryuji stomped his foot, looking like he was almost guarding Akira from Yusuke, which was comical on all levels.

“Dude, hold your horses! Who are you anyway?” Ryuji practically growled. Futaba thought it was cute how protective he was getting over his friends. It made her feel warm fuzzy feelings.

“Ah, I apologize. My passion almost made me forget my manners. I’m a second year at Kosei High’s fine arts division. My name is Yusuke Kitagawa. I’m Madarame-sensei’s pupil, and I am being allowed residence at his place.”

“Woah, Fine Arts at Kosei? That’s super S-Rank prestigious,” Futaba blinked, taken aback.

“Madarame?” Ann spoke up as well, “Do you mean Madarame, like, the famous artist that was recently on Good Morning Japan? That Madarame?”

“The very same,” Yusuke nodded as if it were no importance at all.

“Who is that?” Ryuji asked in a flat, uncaring tone.

“He was introduced in the show as a famous Japanese-style artist that’s getting recognition all over the world. It wouldn’t kill you to pay attention to the news every once and awhile, blockhead,” Ann chided.

“Yusuke!” the older man, who Futaba assumed must have been Madarame himself, called from the car.

“I’m sorry, Sensei, I’ll be right there!” Yusuke answered back immediately. Futaba felt something like a massive, cold stone settle in her stomach as she glanced over at the older man. Oh boy, she even started breaking out in a sweat. She recognized this. It was the same sense of dread she got when she’d first seen Kamoshida, cat-calling Ann from his car. What was up with all these suspicious people rolling up to them in cars? Futaba feared she was going to start to develop some pathological response. All she had to do was glance over at how stiff and quiet Akira had become, and it confirmed her suspicions. That Madarame was dangerous, and Futaba could sense it almost on the same level as Akira could. She wondered if that was in any way normal at all.

“So that old guy is Madarame?” Ryuji asked, squinting. Yusuke pushed past the blond rebel once again, earning an angry yelp.

“Madarame’s exhibition will begin at the department store near the station tomorrow. I’ll be there to help out on opening day. Please come by. It’d be great if you three could give me your answers regarding being my models at that time…” he produced tickets from his pants pocket and practically shoved them at Akira. Futaba grabbed them up before Akira could even twitch. She didn’t know what would happen if Akira sprang into action, but she didn’t think it was just going to be politely accepting Yusuke’s tickets. The poor guy didn’t look like he could read the atmosphere at all, but Futaba could tell at a single glance that something perilous was clouding Akira’s expression, hidden behind his glasses.

“I doubt you have any interest in the Fine Arts,” Yusuke spoke, looking in Ryuji’s direction, “But there are enough tickets for all four of you.” And then, turning back to Akira, “I hope to see you tomorrow!” He quickly bowed once more, before returning to Madarame’s car in record time. They practically sped off after that.

“What a mess,” Ryuji huffed, “What was wrong with that guy? You’re not really planning on going or anything, are you?” He turned to Akira and tilted his head when there wasn’t a response.

“Akira?” Ann asked hesitantly.

“Madarame is a Parasite,” Akira spoke softly, an edge to his voice. Futaba recognized it now as Arsene’s influence. “And to answer your question, yes, I will be going to the exhibition, but not for the art. And I’m going alone. None of you three should set foot anywhere near that place.”

“Holy fuck,” Ryuji cursed under his breath. Ann covered her mouth with her hand.

“Wow, I didn’t even… really?” Ann blinked. They’d been warned over and over that Parasites could be anyone, but they were caught off guard by just how easily they didn’t notice. The man seemed jovial and personable from the car window…

“But what about Yusuke-san?” Ann asked, genuinely concerned.

“He’s in mega danger,” Futaba whispered, “It didn’t seem like anything was wrong, at least on the surface, but I can tell that he doesn’t know a thing about Madarame’s true nature. He’s surprisingly normal for living with a Parasite? It’s a little bizarre.”

“Madarame must see something in Yusuke worth keeping,” Akira responded, mostly to himself, “But what would a Parasite want with a normal human if they aren’t a victim?” His brow was furrowed, bothered by this behavior. It was obviously something he’d never encountered in a Parasite before.

“W-well, c’mon guys! We still have celebratory exam curry to eat!” Ann reminded them, trying to lighten the mood. They could at least try to enjoy themselves while they could. Futaba couldn’t blame her. There was no telling what could happen next. They had just found themselves another Parasite, and they didn’t have a single clue to its motivations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you like that side Ann/Shiho? >:3c


	10. Blood Red Summer (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fun day trip to the museum. What could possibly go wrong?

_In a pain that buckles out your knees_  
_Could you stop this if I plead?_  
_(You got it, you got it, you got it)_  
_So destined I am to walk among the dark_  
_A child in keeping secrets from_  
_(Will they know what I’ve done in the after?)_  
_In the sought for matter when the words blame you_  
_In a blood red summer I’ll give you_  
_(I don’t want it, don’t want it, don’t want it)_

_And when the answer that you want_  
_Is in the question that you state_  
_Come what may, come what may_

_What did I do to deserve_  
_What did I do to deserve_  
_This?_

* * *

 

 

It was the dead of night when Ohya burst through the front door of Leblanc, empty save for Akira sitting at one of the barstools and Morgana curled up in a stool beside him.

“Akira! Been a hot minute since we saw each other face-to-face, yeah? Gotta make this quick, I got a cute little nurse waiting back home for me.” She gave a saucy wink.

“So, you and Tae finally moved in together?” Akira asked, unfazed by the reporter’s antics.

“Hell yeah! I’ve been pushing for it for the longest time, but Tae is finally comfortable enough with it that we settled it all out a couple of months ago. Hope I didn’t ruin any surprises if Tae hasn’t even told you yet. Maybe she wanted to invite you over for a secret housewarming party? Well, just act surprised if she tells you. You’re good at faking emotions like that.”

“Excuse you, I am a perfectly normal human being that experiences emotions just like anyone else,” Akira gave her an affronted look, even going as far as to softly place a hand on his chest while he did so, “Your words cut me deep.” Ohya chortled.

“Whatever you say, Mr. Gentleman Debonair,” she sat down beside him at the counter, and her face turned serious.

“I did what you asked and started digging up any information I could about Madarame Ichiryusai. A Japanese-style artist that’s been in the trade for a long time, but he’s only just recently started getting recognition this past year or so. He’s on record as having a humble home and being a penny-pincher even though he’s started gathering a lot of wealth. It’d take some more digging before I could confirm if that’s true, or if he knows how to spend his cash back-alley. And then there was also something else…” Ohya paused, and Akira lifted an eyebrow to encourage her to continue.

“He has a history of mentoring art students. The length of time varies from student to student, but he’s always had a handful of apprentices staying with him. I started looking into his past apprentices and associates, but my investigation came to a grinding halt. There’s just… nothing. No records of any kind. After students “left” his mentorship, I suddenly can’t find anything on them. Addresses, jobs, nothing. And when I got suspicious enough to check family backgrounds, I couldn’t see anything worth pursuing there, either! Every single apprentice Madarame has ever had was an orphan with no family ties.”

“What about his current student, Kitagawa? Did you find anything on him?” Akira asked.

“Only his student records at Kosei High School. He’s an orphan, too. But the Kitagawa name did pull up something else. His mother was apparently a very famous art associate of Madarame’s. She died in a car accident a good few years ago. Yusuke had to have been very young when it happened. It was a hit-and-run, but there isn’t a whole lot of documentation on the incident. If I wanted to get more information on that, I’d have to break into police records. And there's more: Yusuke was adopted not too long after his mother’s death by Madarame himself! It smells suspicious to me, and my reporter instincts are never wrong about a hot scoop.”

“You’re right. Thank you, Ohya, your help is appreciated immeasurably,” Akira replied to her. Ohya chuckled.

“It’s the least I can do after all the shit you’ve been through. And, hey, it’s not like I’m not getting anything out of it! I’ve had a lot of good news stories come out of your investigations. Like that weird, messed up Assembly of the Divine Power group. Or that underground yakuza weapons deal operation you sabotaged. That was some juicy news. Parasite hunting led you to some pretty messed up situations, you know that?”

“It wasn’t like I had any choice. But unfortunately, I might be getting into something even worse this time around.”

“And you’re absolutely sure that Madarame is a Parasite?” Ohya questioned worriedly, “I mean… you were so confident that this whole mess was over and behind us.” Akira looked down at the floor and away from her.

“It appears that I was severely mistaken. Something is going on behind the scenes, some new connection that these Parasites share. Before, the Parasites had nothing to do with each other, but they were all very concerned about reforming the world in some way. Oyamada wanted to get rid of people that had specific psychiatric problems and depression, believing they were undeserving of life and a second chance. Honjo Shinpei, your former newspaper head, wanted to control the media network and influence how people behaved by the information that he fed them. All the five Parasites I’ve killed before wished to reshape the world around them in some way. But this time… I don’t know what the common thread is anymore if there even is one. If what I’ve been told is true, and someone out there is making Parasites, then these new Parasites are connected in a way the others weren’t before. They don’t have a standard purpose, but their origins are now linked. The exact opposite of the situation two years ago. We just need to figure out what the new link is. I feel like once we do that, then everything will fall into place.”

“I’ll do some more research into Madarame, then. I’ll see if I can find out anything about his business dealings or work associates. There has to be some way we can connect him back to Kamoshida if your theory is correct,” Ohya nodded to him, standing up and preparing to leave.

“But, there is one thing that I’ve always found really puzzling,” she spoke up suddenly. Akira tilted his head in question.

“Out of all the cases that you’ve had, all six people that you’ve killed so far… not one of them has gotten any media attention, y’know? The police have kept your dealings on a tight leash. I remember being so concerned about the fallout that Oyamada’s disappearance would have made and being concerned about the police investigating Tae. But then… there was an investigation, sure, and Tae was interrogated at some point. But it was… kind of shocking, how little attention the whole incident received. Oyamada disappeared, and then his entire existence was just, I dunno, swept under a rug. And it was the same with my old boss, the one you saved me from. You killed him right there in our offices that night when I went to go investigate my former news partner.

“Honjo always hated that I never let her death go and kept exploring and asking about it. And that night when I figured out it was because Honjo offed her himself… I’m just glad that I took you with me. He ambushed us there, and you killed him right in front of the elevator. Our news firm was in an uproar for a whole month. But then after that initial police investigation, it just kind of… died in the water. And the other three people you killed, I would have never known they’d existed if you hadn’t kept me updated. An underground yakuza family head and a leader of a religious cult, the public had absolutely no knowledge of anything that went on two years ago. It’s just kind of… bizarre. Even the whole thing with the gym teacher you killed only a month ago. Everyone has moved on, and there was barely any coverage in the news on his disappearance. The public doesn’t know it’s anything more than that, doesn’t even know it’s a murder investigation. It’s something that’s always bothered me.”

“I know what you mean. But we can worry about all of that later, once this whole mess is finally straightened out. The faster we find a connection between Madarame and Kamoshida, the closer we’ll be to finding out why they’re becoming Parasites in the first place, and who is making them that way,” Akira replied. “I want to get this whole threat put down and laid to rest.”

“I completely understand. You have people that are important to you now, that you want to protect. I mean, not that I and Tae and Lala-chan weren’t ever important to you. Or that fortune teller chick that used to visit you at the bar, or the guy with the gecko tattoo that I’m absolutely convinced used to be in the yakuza. I can’t remember their names off the top of my head, and you never talk about them. You sure did make a lot of acquaintances, huh? I guess this is what they mean by someone being a ‘smooth criminal?’ You have so many underground connections that even I don’t know about.” Ohya winked at Akira.

“They’re private people. I never introduced them because I know you’re a bloodhound. After what happened to them, they wanted peace. I don’t blame them,” Akira defended himself as he shook his head.

“Whatever. Keep your filthy secrets. If you keep feeding me hot scoops, I honestly don’t care what you get up to in your free time. Let me know if anything else you want to investigate comes up. I’m always down for a good investigation.” Ohya petted Morgana’s head and waved before leaving as dramatically as she had entered. Akira only sighed to himself once she was gone.

  

* * *

 

 

“I don’t really get what the point of all of this is,” Ryuji grumbled. He at least had the decency to lower his voice enough that only Futaba and Ann would be able to hear him. Morgana chortled from Futaba’s side-bag.

“Of course, you wouldn’t be cultured enough to appreciate Fine Arts,” the cat snickered. Ryuji sent a withering glare to the unzipped side of the bag where Morgana was carefully peaking out.

“I get why people make art, and I have nothing wrong with appreciating it, but it’s so dull. It looks more like just showing off at this point,” Ryuji defended himself. From what Futaba had seen, the exhibit was Madarame’s art only. There were some highlights from pupils he’d had previously, but it was a little like Ryuji said. Just showing off his own talents. She found the exhibit boring beyond belief herself, longing for the comfort of her bed and laptop. But she braved the bourgeoise art crowd with the memory of her nightly visions. At this point, she accepted that they were more than just dreams. Akira’s discomfort at her even mentioning them confirmed her suspicions of their unnatural origins.

Akira was doing a bang-up job of hiding it, but Futaba could tell he was bored too. Or maybe that wasn’t quite the right word. To an outsider, he would look calm and collected. But Futaba knew him better. It was the way he hid his hands in his pockets, the way he angled his head just so to make it hard to see where he was looking through his glasses. Akira was anxious, ready to spring into action against some unseen foe. He was agitated, glancing around every couple of seconds. 

“There are only a few paintings here that are of any real quality,” Akira murmured. He pursed his lips as soon as the words left his mouth, giving the impression he hadn’t meant to say anything aloud. Ann turned to him with a raised brow.

“How can you tell?” She asked. Akira shifted, his mouth tightened to a thin-lipped frown.

“It’s not really me, it’s Arsene. He won’t stop pointing things out to me. It’s giving me a headache,” Akira replied back, “Please, no more questions about the art. It makes it harder to reign him in. I feel like I’m going to start ranting any second.” Futaba smirked, amused.

“Wow, poor Akira. He’s got an art snob demon stuck in his head.”

“Oh, excuse me,” A familiar voice called. The tall artist boy, Yusuke, weaved expertly through the throng of people to greet them, “How fortunate that you’ve come. I’ve been eager to start painting.”

“Huh? Like, right now?” Futaba asked. Yusuke’s eyes lit up at once.

“I’m pleased you’re as excited as I am to get started,” he replied, taking her words as a statement rather than a question.

“Isn’t this going a little too fast?” Ann interjected nervously, “We haven’t even seen the whole exhibit yet!”

“There’s only been one painting worth the trip so far,” Akira lamented in a low voice quite unlike how he usually speaks, before shutting his mouth with a sharp click of teeth. Futaba almost shook with the effort it took to stop herself from laughing.

“I’m curious to what you mean by that,” Yusuke tilted his head, “All of these paintings are fine works by my mentor. Madarame takes great dedication to perfecting each whimsy that catches his attention.” Akira’s brows furrowed, and he shook his head, even as his mouth opened to speak.

“I don’t mean to say they aren’t lovely paintings. Any painter with some skill can create a work that is pleasing to the human eye,” Akira started, and Futaba felt herself about to start losing it too. With mirth at Akira’s suffering, of course. Ryuji could only stare, wide-eyed at the sudden shift in Akira’s tone of voice. He stood a little straighter, his lips quirked up to a charming, lop-sided smile. He took his hands out of his pockets and gestured to the painting they’d been standing in front of.

“Take this painting, for example. The park scenery and a woman kneeling to look at something in the pond. The composition and technique are the levels expected of a man dedicated to his craft. But it lacks direction. It has no focus, no feeling behind it. For what purpose was the painting created? It captures nothing. It was clearly painted with nothing in mind than to simply be a painting that looks good. No passion, no enjoyment. So many different styles in these paintings, but not a one feels genuine to me. There is only one painting here that had emotions poured into it as it was painted. And that makes it the only one worth looking at. None of the others are worth even the meager effort it would take me to pilfer them.”

Ann and Ryuji stood slack-jawed. Futaba was rolling inside her head at this point. She could feel the bag she was holding tremble. Morgana shared her amusement. Yusuke had a hand on his chin, the perfect picture of rapt attention. He soaked it all in like a sponge.

“Feelings behind the works created, you say?” Yusuke murmured to himself, “Then, show me which painting has emotion in it.”

‘This poor guy is actually serious,’ Futaba thought to herself, ‘I can’t believe he’s listening to Akira ramble like this. And he didn’t even acknowledge the whole stealing thing!’

“Oh, gladly,” Akira nodded his head, striding to their right confidently to a painting situated in the corner. It was unassuming, a rolling painting of color and light, a sunset as viewed through a canopy of trees. Yusuke’s face did a funny little look before smoothing back out to normal.

“This one?” He asks. There’s something in the tone of his voice Futaba couldn’t place. Akira gives Yusuke a long glance.

“Yes,” He speaks a little softer, “this one has a strong passion behind it. It feels different. Because I can sense a desire from this painting, it makes it worth something to me.” Akira looked Yusuke straight in the eyes, “Only this one.” Yusuke quickly breaks eye contact. There is something like pain on his face.

“Hey, are you okay? I can tell Akira to quit messing around if you want,” Futaba spoke to him. Yusuke seemed to come back to himself and smoothed out his expression and posture.

“No, I’m perfectly fine. It’s just a surprise to me you would speak so highly of this painting in particular. There are certainly many better pieces to choose from.”

“I like it a lot too!” Ann chirped. “When I saw it in the online gallery promoting this exhibit, it was one of the paintings I most wanted to see!” Yusuke looked distinctly uncomfortable. “It was like Akira said! I just sensed something from it.”

“Just so,” Akira nodded to himself, “A painting I could see myself breaking in to acquire.” There was a mischievous glint in his eyes. Futaba had never seen Akira look so playful before.

“I’m sorry, did someone mention breaking in?” came a soft voice Futaba recognized. Sure enough, there was the detective that had been at her school before. The one Akira liked flirting with. Akira waved away his concern.

“Only speaking in hypotheticals of course.”

“Of course,” the detective echoed with some amusement. This guy, it was Akechi, wasn’t it? Futaba felt like that was right. Ryuji was sending him the death glare of his life. He must not have had a fun time being questioned, apparently.

“What are you doing here,” Ryuji muttered grumpily. Akechi gave a pleasant smile.

“Ah, Sakamoto-san. I could ask the same of you. I didn’t get the impression a kid like you would enjoy events like this?” There was a subtle jab there even Ryuji picked up on.

“I forgot to mention,” Futaba spoke up, turning to Akira, “Your favorite customer was actually at our school. He questioned all the students. Y’know, about vandalism the and stuff.”

“I was wondering how a detective would be so familiar with a high school student,” Akira mused, not bothering to debate the favorite customer thing. There was no use hiding what Futaba knew as truth anyway.

“Back to the important stuff, though!” Ryuji butted in, “I still don’t know why he’s here.” Futaba could taste the salt in the air.

“If you must know, I was invited by Madarame. Though I’m a detective, I’m also embarrassed to admit that I’m something of... I guess you could say a celebrity? Since I’m always the public figure that goes to the media about disclosing any information on high-profile cases, I’ve developed something of a cult following. It eventually evolved into me taking on media interviews at the behest of the police department. Most of the time I’m questioned about my personal life rather than my work, however.” There was a small frown on his face at the last statement.

“That’s right, I’ve heard a lot of gossip about you!” Ann piped up, recognition on her face. “Goro Akechi, you’re the prodigy detective!”

“You flatter me, Takamaki-san,” Akechi replied sheepishly. Akechi sent Akira a glance, “I am astonished to see all of you here, though.”

“We were invited, too,” Akira answered smoothly. Futaba noted he was mostly back to himself now that Akechi was here, Arsene’s influence pushed firmly away. All that was left of him was the debonair charm. But that might as well have been something of Arsene that became permanently affixed to Akira’s personality. Akechi looked genuinely caught off guard.

“You were?” He asked.

“By me,” Yusuke spoke up, “I wish to have a model for my next art piece.” Yusuke seemed to be studying Akechi with an intense expression.

“I didn’t know you were a model, Akira,” Akechi said with amusement, but there was a tense look around his eyes. Why was he so on edge, Futaba wondered.

“I’m not. But for Yusuke, I’ve decided to make an exception,” Akira spoke.

“Woah, for real? You’re actually gonna do it?” Ryuji hissed out. Akira shrugged his shoulders.

“Why not?”

“Splendid!” Yusuke beamed. He quickly turned to Futaba and Ann.

“What about you two? The image wouldn’t be complete if the guardian had no goddesses to protect.”

“Guardian? Goddesses? I’m a little lost,” Akechi murmured. He had a hand on his chin in contemplation, and Futaba saw his eyes flicker to Akira in subtle scrutiny. Futaba didn’t know what was going through the detective’s head, but he was thinking very heavily about it.

“It is alright if you don’t understand, so long as the passion of the painting is translated to the viewer. Isn’t that what you were speaking of before, Akira?” Yusuke said. Futaba was caught off-guard at how Yusuke so casually dropped Akira’s first name. It then occurred to her that Yusuke didn’t know their names until now until Akechi mentioned them. Yusuke remained oblivious to the shock he’d caused. Akechi’s eyes seemed to narrow somewhat at Yusuke’s familiarity. Was there a rivalry thing going on here? For Akira’s attention?

“And I’m Futaba Sakura,” Futaba spoke up, now fully aware that she was the only one Yusuke still had no name for.

“Ah, thank you, Sakura-san,” Yusuke followed her awkward greeting, easily understanding, “Will you accept my offer, then?”

“If Akira is doing it, then I need to be there. For supervision,” Futaba said, “I’m the responsible one.”

Akira tilted his head back slightly and laughed. Futaba smiled. She liked it when he laughed, he did it so rarely.

“That is true,” he agreed, smiling. Futaba looked between Yusuke and Akechi. Did they realize how similar they looked, all dumbstruck at Akira’s contented expression?

“You’ll come over tomorrow then,” Yusuke nodded to himself.

“Woah, right away?” Futaba raised an eyebrow.

“I can’t let this opportunity go to waste. Once inspiration hits, it must be acted on immediately.”

“There you are, Yusuke!” Madarame called, walking up to the group. Yusuke’s posture stiffened.

“Ah, sensei,” he murmured. Futaba saw Akira stiffen as well, his expression stony. He’d gone back to the posture from before, head tilted, and hands shoved quickly into his pockets. Futaba guessed it was for an entirely different reason than Arsene wanting to spout artistic nonsense.

“And you’re the group from yesterday,” Madarame continued, gaze sweeping before settling on her and Akira, standing close together. Futaba felt her hand reach up and grasp Akira’s shirt sleeve on instinct. “So, are all of you enjoying the exhibit?” He turned and bowed his head slightly to Akechi in greeting, who returned the gesture.

“It’s delightful,” Akechi spoke up immediately, seeming to sense the awkward atmosphere, “I quite enjoy each painting. They all have such different styles to them that keeps things fresh as you walk through the gallery. It’s hard to believe one person can have this much inspiration.” Akira’s mouth twisted into a frown, and Futaba could tell he very much wanted to say something. Even now at this inopportune moment, Arsene was clawing to say something scathing about all of these ‘emotionless art pieces.’ Arsene could tell something was off about these works that they couldn’t.

“Well… putting into words is hard… but I find inspiration bubbles up from inside me like a natural spring does from the earth.”

“A spring?” Ann tilted her head.

“Bubbles?” Ryuji muttered to himself.

“It’s important to distance one’s self from worldly desires like money and fame,” Madarame seemed inclined to lecture the clueless plebs around him, Futaba guessed, “And only then can one see the path to finding the true beauty around them.” He grinned fondly at Yusuke, though the sight set something on edge in Futaba’s mind.

“Yusuke is an excellent study of this. He finds inspiration readily, just as I do.” Yusuke shifted and seemed uncomfortable with Madarame’s praise. Where had the oblivious boy that said whatever was on his mind gone to? He seemed reserved and almost careful now, in the presence of his sensei.

“I’ve only developed so much because of your teachings,” Yusuke replied. To Futaba, it seemed like an automatic response, a parroted phrase. Futaba saw Akechi regarding Yusuke carefully.

“At any rate, I’m sure whatever inspiration you draw from this will become a wonderful painting,” Madarame continued, grinning widely, “After all, you’ve found such perfect muses.” Futaba swallowed as he looked in the direction of her and Akira. “Well then, if you’ll excuse me. Oh, and give my regards, Akechi-san.”

“Of course,” Akechi murmured as Madarame turned and left.

“Ugh, what a creep,” Ryuji grumbled, seeming to forget Yusuke and Akechi’s presence in their midst for a moment, “He makes my skin crawl.”

“I assure he doesn’t mean it, he’s very passionate about his work,” Akechi smiled at Ryuji. It didn’t look all that friendly to Futaba, though. Ryuji startled.

“Ah, I mean… I’m just not used to people being that intense I guess,” Ryuji tried to backpedal. Ann rolled her eyes.

“I’ll come model too, then. I mean, I do it as a part-time job, after all. It can’t be that bad,” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than anything.

“You don’t have to if you’re nervous,” Akira regarded her kindly.

“No, it’s fine. Like Futaba said, you need supervision.” Akira shook his head in faux-exasperation.

“If you insist,” he bemoaned in fake hurt.

“Then I should go to!” Ryuji grinned. Ann shot him a deadpan stare.

“You’ll make it worse.”

“Hey! I’m not that bad.”

“An unwanted distraction,” Yusuke piped up, seeming to latch on to Ann’s hate-train.

“I don’t need to hear that from you,” Ryuji growled. Akechi coughed.

“Well, I must be going now as well. I only stopped by as a momentary distraction from work, but I really should be doing other things at present. It was more enjoyable than I expected, though,” Akechi smiled, turning to Akira.

“I might stop by Leblanc tonight if that’s fine?”

“You don’t need my permission. You’re a customer, you’re always welcome,” Akira responded fondly. Futaba snorted. Akechi only nodded in reply and left.

“What a loser,” Ryuji hissed. He was probably still sour from his treatment when he was questioned. Akechi must have been nasty with him, or maybe Ryuji just perceived slights where there weren’t. Perhaps a combination of the two. Akira barked out a surprised laugh at Ryuji’s bitter statement.

“He’s more popular and successful than you’ll ever be,” came Ann’s surprising response, “Not that I’m defending the guy, it’s just the truth.”

“I’m ready to go home,” Ryuji growled.

“I’ll give you the address to Madarame’s home,” Yusuke interjected, pulling out a pen and paper and scrawling on it quickly. He handed it to Akira. “I look forward to painting you.”

“Tone down the creep-factor, Inari,” Futaba advised him. He only tilted his head in response.

 

* * *

 

 

Futaba was procrastinating, trying to stall time before heading to bed. She really needed to lay down, she had school the next day, her brain rationalized. But Futaba was more tired of the visions she’d been having than the physical weariness of her body. She wanted these dead people to stop contacting her like she would fix all their problems. It was only the comfort that they’d rest when Akira finally took care of Madarame that lifted her spirits. She wondered if Akira had ever had any of these problems. Futaba dragged herself from her computer chair and fell face first onto her bed.

“Hey Morgana,” she mumbled from the sheets, “Has Akira ever been contacted by dead people?”

Morgana, who was curled up at the foot of her bed and was now inches away from her face, yawned and scratched behind his ear. “Why aren’t you in bed yet? And no, he’s never been contacted by human spirits. Only demons. It would be something unique to your abilities if I had to guess.”

“Well these ghosts need to chill and pass on, or whatever,” Futaba complained.

“Let’s deal with Madarame first, and then go from there,” Morgana advised sagely. Futaba didn’t want his perfectly rational advice. She wanted to be left in peace. Any further thoughts were interrupted by a loud crashing sound behind her that startled her entirely from the bed. She registered the next minute in a flurry of sensory overload. Morgana was hissing and yelling angrily, Futaba had bare seconds to turn around and her eyes to be violently accosted by a dizzying black and white zigzag pattern that filled her vision. She saw long dark red claws, a toothy grin, and then her mind shut down completely.

 

* * *

 

 

Akira shot out of bed, panting hard. He barely paused to throw on pants before he was bursting down the stairs and out of the front door of Leblanc. He thundered down the streets barefoot towards the Sakura house. A window was broken out, and curtains were flapping and ripped. Akira’s face twisted into a hard line of anger, and he scaled the side of the house with incredible athleticism and grace, to pull himself up through the broken window. Morgana lay on the floor, unresponsive but still breathing. Akira had felt when an external disturbance had messed with Morgana and knew it had only meant one thing. There was no sign of Futaba. Akira’s hands balled into fists as he looked around the room for any indications as to what took her. A note on a torn piece of paper caught his attention, thrown carelessly onto the floor. The handwriting was a messy, animalistic scrawl. The message read:

_Her body will be a masterpiece. You don’t want that to happen, do you? You should hurry. He won’t be patient. And what a sad fate that would be._

Akira crushed the note into his fist. He studied his Familiar and was relieved to find whatever had been done to him had been some sort of mental attack, and his physical body had remained unharmed. Time was of the essence, and Morgana was out of commission. Akira reached deep down into his mind.

“Protect Futaba. Protect my daughter.” Sojiro’s voice rang through his head. Sojiro… he will be worried. For Futaba and for Akira himself. This had to be taken care of now. A low rumble of agreement passed like a physical touch through Akira’s body. When his eyes opened, they were golden.

“Kohryu. Let the strength of our bond part the heavens,” Akira intoned. He looked back through the window. Thunder rolled, and lightning cracked the sky, a thunderstorm moved in without warning or reason, and the wind suddenly picked up to a feverish pitch. Akira slammed his boot onto the window sill and climbed out. His body coiled, and he pushed himself off and leaped into the air. Lightning flashed and struck him. In that instant, Akira vanished.


	11. The Hard Sell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The situation with Madarame heats up. 
> 
> Chapter warnings at the end.

_These eyes ungoverned are tearing us apart_   
_Their ears forsaken have given up on art_   
_Now, why believe in anything they praise_   
_When one hand holds them the victor_   
_While the other holds the shovel to their graves?_

_You’re selling all of me_   
_And too many of you fighting over nothing_   
_Oh, there’s never enough cool for everyone_   
_And before you know it you’re selling out to be in_

_Oh, this ticket window has closed_   
_Save your money, baby_   
_The next show’s about to start_   
_Where else can you get to watch this talent fall?_   
_One by one they drop_

_I stood by everything I loved  
While you never understood me much_

 

* * *

 

 

Yusuke stared out of his window, frowning at his reflection on the glass every time a stray lightning bolt illuminated his face. This weather was unprecedented, the storm had practically appeared out of the ether. Yusuke was half-convinced it was an omen or sign. It was the dead of night, but he was still wide awake, too wound up at the next day’s prospects. No one had ever intrigued him this much before, it was honestly confusing to even himself. But he was never one to question these things; they happened for a reason. There was something about Akira. The older man had some air of mystique about him that set fire to Yusuke’s muse. And that he found so much worth in one of Yusuke’s paintings-

Yusuke sharply cuts himself off. No, it was Madarame’s painting. Yusuke had only helped him a little. But it was mostly Madarame’s work. And Madarame was the one that should be receiving all the praise for it. That was just how it was supposed to be.

So why was Yusuke suddenly feeling so twisted inside, when that art was being judged with so much worth?

Yusuke forced himself back on track. Tomorrow, he’d be able to paint something for himself. Akira, with wild hair and eyes that held some quiet mystery. The girl, Takamaki-san? She was just so perfectly proportioned that Yusuke’s artist brain couldn’t help but want to try and commit it to paper. It practically demanded further study, would boost his growth in studying anatomy tremendously if he had the opportunity to paint her as well. Of course, there were all sorts of interesting body types to discover, but Takamaki’s was a perfect starting place, in Yusuke’s humble opinion. Even the girl that called him fox-face for no reason. Her hair wasn’t a typical color for the area. She was simultaneously bold and withdrawn at the same time, a paradox in her confident words but reclusive body-language. Yusuke was intrigued.

There was a knock at Yusuke’s door. It could only be one person, so he answered immediately with, “Please come in, sensei.” Madarame opened the door to his room, an enthusiastic grin on his wizened face.

“I’m sorry to intrude so late, but some inspiration has come to me regarding your little project tomorrow. If it isn’t too much trouble, I’d like you to come help me with a project of my own.” Yusuke was immediately suspicious for reasons he couldn’t name. But Madarame was in a good mood, so that meant that Yusuke was safe, he thought rapidly. If Madarame was happy and eager with work, Yusuke’s life was comfortable. When he wasn’t… Yusuke’s life was not. Yusuke nodded carefully to his sensei.

“It would be an honor,” he spoke in a subdued voice. Madarame motioned in a sweeping gesture for Yusuke to follow and exited down the hallway. They went down the stairs to the ground floor, and Madarame led Yusuke to a corner of the house Yusuke was never allowed to go to. What had suddenly changed for Yusuke to be given such special permission? Memories of childhood flooded him, where he’d be severely punished if he was ever found too far down this hallway, near the room with the golden peacock feathers painted on the wood. It sent an instinctual shiver of fear down Yusuke’s spine, and he swallowed slowly. Yusuke didn’t know what to think. Madarame was acting in a new way Yusuke had never seen before, and he didn’t know how to respond in kind. Couldn’t identify the right way to react to stay in Madarame’s good favor.

“Tonight, I’m making a special painting. And I finally feel like you’re ready to share in some of the more intimate details of my processes. I’ve felt a kinship between us, Yusuke. You know how to appreciate the beauty around you, especially in the human form. There’s so much to be learned from it, all the twists and curves and expressions the body can make. I confess being enamored with the subject. You always have an eye for all the perfect subjects to study. Your judgment has never steered me wrong.”

Yusuke didn’t understand where all this praise was suddenly coming from. Usually, this meant that Madarame was about to ask Yusuke to do unique paintings or elaborate artistic favors. But that was fine. It was Yusuke’s duty as Madarame’s pupil to assist him in any way he could. Yusuke owed his whole life to Madarame. But the single thing that changed the atmosphere of this favor was that Madarame was pushing open the golden door, leading Yusuke down below to a place he’d never been allowed before. It was the change in all Madarame’s cues, all the tells that Yusuke had built his whole life around reading. Madarame was almost a different person in Yusuke’s eyes, a giddy child about to indulge in a treasured pastime, eager to share. It… unsettled him.

“I had to call in a favor to secure this particular muse,” Madarame went on, oblivious or uncaring of Yusuke’s growing anxiety, “but it will all be worth it when the finished piece comes to fruition.” When they finally landed at the bottom of the staircase, Madarame flicked a light switch. The underground studio became illuminated, filled to the brim with paintings still set on easels lined up on full display. It was what was behind those easels that made Yusuke stiffen, and his breath dies on his lips.

Corpses. Perfectly preserved corpses set in taxidermy. Crisscrossed with stitches like worn out children’s toys. Wires suspending their bodies from the ceiling to keep their poses perfectly in place. Yusuke couldn’t move, couldn’t so much as blink at the sight spread before him. His mouth ran dry and his heart pounded violently in his ribcage. He recognized some of the faces. Pupils that he used to share this very house with. People he had thought had left a long time ago in pursuit of their own goals. Now, he knew that they’d never left at all. There were people who looked fresher, and he despaired at a few recognized faces. People he’d grown interested in and pointed out to Madarame in passing on the street. People he’d observed as good model material offhandedly. He never knew… Was this what Madarame meant by Yusuke giving him helpful advice for his pieces? Yusuke felt his stomach curl unpleasantly and a bitter taste settles in the back of his throat. More than anything this… it felt like a betrayal.

His eyes were drawn to the far back wall, where copious amounts of red fabric were draped all over a still, pale body. Orange hair fanned out around the small, skinny frame of the girl Yusuke had just seen earlier today. Futaba Sakura, her modesty preserved with thick lines of crimson fabric swathed about her in ways that drew the folds up pleasingly. She was seated up in a slight slouch, her head resting on her side, the perfect picture of peaceful rest. It was only the slight rise and fall of her chest that gave Yusuke any comfort watching this scene, however. Though she was positioned in such a pleasing way for modeling, Yusuke’s first and only thought was her well-being and safety. No painting was worth any of what Madarame had done.

“I know all of this must come as a surprise, but you’ll get over it quickly when you realize how much inspiration can be found in doing things my way. How much easier all this will make everything. She will be my first living model in quite some time, but I had to act quickly. She is but one of a pair after all, and the scene has to be completed before we can start.”

“What is all of this,” Yusuke croaked out, barely able to force his voice to speak, “I don’t understand. These people… they used to live here with us, you used to take care of them. So why… why did they end up like this?”

“It was simply that I had no more use for them,” Madarame answered in a distracted, bored tone, “Really, I couldn’t keep them around if they no longer inspired me. What else was I to do with them? Any salvageable features they had needed to be committed to paintings, that is the only use for them after they cease to give me other sources of art. After all the care and attention I’ve put into cultivating your artist’s eye, surely you can understand at least that much? What use are they if there is no art to be gained, no vision? But I’ll let this slide, it is your first night being exposed to this new enlightened form of expression. You, out of all of my pupils, I felt would understand things like I do. Ironic, considering your mother was both my most successful and most disappointing student.”

“What do you mean by that,” Yusuke’s voice turned icy. Madarame turned to look at Yusuke thoroughly.

“She was successful enough that she could have struck out on her own without my help,” Madarame spoke begrudgingly, “But was ultimately an utter disappointment. After she became pregnant, she became useless. All she cared about was her child. She was leaving me to become some domestic housewife! She became useless to me,” A cold glint crossed Madarame’s eye, “And I could not allow that.”

Yusuke shook, hissing, “My mother was never useless.”

“Only because I made sure it was so,” Madarame quipped back, unaffected by Yusuke’s mounting distress, “She made her magnum opus after you were born, and it was only for that reason that I allowed you to live. She had been inspired by you, so I figured there must have been some sort of potential. But then she had to tell me she was leaving. That she wanted to dedicate herself to raising you instead of continuing her career. You must understand, how hard I took that news. She was throwing away all that talent! For nothing! So, if she wasn’t going to use that talent, then she had no reason to live.”

“It was a tidy little accident, rather easy to cover up and explain. A simple hit and run, a case to grow cold and never be solved. And I didn’t even lose a pupil in the process! I simply just traded one for another!” Madarame proclaimed gleefully. Yusuke was speechless. He couldn’t imagine what Madarame was thinking at this moment, couldn’t possibly fathom it. His mother… she was dead on the whims of this… complete monster! And for the sake of art… something Yusuke himself treasured as his last connection to his mother, a shared passion that made him feel closer to her. Madarame soiled it thoroughly, stomping upon that bond and defiling it. Madarame lifted a hand to point at a distant easel. The painting that sat upon it was one Yusuke was intimately familiar with. The Sayuri, a masterpiece that Yusuke felt a secure connection to. No, Yusuke didn’t want Madarame to say anything more, to speak another dirty word that would take away all the things Yusuke had cherished so much in his life.

“Your mother,” was the only thing Madarame had to say for Yusuke to understand. This painting wasn’t like the one Madarame showed the world as his own work. This one didn’t have the jarring purple haze at the bottom. It was instead a bright image of a woman gazing down at her newborn. A painting full of maternal warmth and love. Yusuke almost couldn’t bear to keep his eyes on it. It was his mother’s painting of her love for him. Yusuke could feel it instantly. It was too much. Why was Madarame doing this? Saying these things and showing him all of this? Ruining everything good thing Yusuke had in his life?

“Your mother was so gifted,” Madarame was saying as Yusuke silently broke down beside him, “One look at that painting is all it takes for me to feel the same rage I felt that night when she told me she was going to throw all of that away. But it was all worth it in the end. I profited immensely from her unpublished work, and I even procured a suitable heir and understudy for my unique process.”

“Don’t you dare,” Yusuke growled lowly, “say that my mother’s death was worth any of this. And I will never let you think even for a moment that I would ever freely continue any of these abhorrent methods that you practice! The least of the reasons being that it drove you to kill my mother!”

Madarame’s face twisted into a violent sneer. “You owe me your life. You have no right to refuse anything I offer. I own you! I own your talent, I own your whole future! Everything you are and everything you will become is all because of me! Your mother may have birthed you, but I molded and created who you are! You are mine!” Madarame snarled, and his face was marred with deep shadows and terrifying anger. Yusuke swallowed but didn’t back down.

“You do not own me. My talent and my artistic spirit had always been my own,” Yusuke told him with quiet determination. Madarame’s eyes were wild, and he roared with fury at Yusuke’s denial.

“You ungrateful child! You will not ruin all of this work, all of these years that I’ve wasted on you!” Madarame strode forward with purpose, and for all of Yusuke’s defiance, the sight of Madarame angrily walking towards him set off a primal instinct of fear and self-preservation he’d cultivated during the years. He cowered without even thinking, ducking at the blow Madarame struck to his face. He curled in on himself as he fell to the floor, and Madarame kicked him a few times before scoffing and losing interest.

“Your groveling won’t save you this time. I’ve risked too much tonight not to continue with my plans. I’ll have to deal with you later after it’s all done.” Madarame yanked Yusuke up roughly by the arm and set him upon one of the chairs set up in front of Futaba, where a blank canvas was set up.

“Just sit there and do as you’re told, and maybe I’ll give you the mercy of a quick death,” Madarame hissed at him as Yusuke kept his head bowed. He had no energy to fight back. He couldn’t bring himself to overcome the enormous shadow that Madarame cast over him. How could he ever hope to escape him? There was a soft gasp that brought Yusuke’s head up, and his eyes widened as he saw Futaba’s fearful gaze staring back at him.

“What the hell?” she asked her eyes moving around frantically, taking in all the gruesome sights Yusuke had just moments before. Her eyes landed on Madarame, and there was such disgust and horror on her face that left no doubt that she knew the cause of all of this. She swallowed as Madarame turned expectantly towards the stairs as if waiting.

“Yusuke are you okay?” she asked, voice trembling badly. She was starting to shiver violently, too, and Yusuke desperately wished he could comfort her, or take her out of this situation entirely.

“No,” he whispered. She started to tear up at his answer, and then he wished he hadn’t spoken at all. There was a thunderous crash of lightning outside, so severe that it startled Yusuke and Futaba both, momentarily deafening them.

“Our star guest has arrived,” was all Madarame said. His back was turned to Yusuke so he couldn’t see the grin of madness on his face.

 

* * *

 

 

“Akira,” Futaba whispered to herself. There was a flicker of hope in her chest that Akira would whisk in and stop Madarame. He would save her and Yusuke and then everything would be alright. But all it took was one look at Yusuke’s vacant and grim expression to know that all of this couldn’t be fixed so easily. Her fury could almost overcome her fear at the thought of what Madarame must have done to break Yusuke’s spirit like this. What had he done or said to produce such an effect on him? She wanted to help Yusuke just as badly as she wanted to help herself. Her only consolation was that Akira would be able to pick up the slack and get her out of this, get both her and Yusuke out of this.

Futaba picked up slow, methodical steps down the stairs leading to their location in the basement studio. It didn’t take long for Akira to step down on the landing. He looked wild. His hair was a disheveled mess, his shirt and pants wrinkled. His eyes were burning golden. Futaba swallowed at his expression of total blankness. The only thing that gave him away was the deep crease of his eyebrows into hard lines of pure outrage. Akira was beyond pissed.

“Finally, the last piece has come into place!” Madarame spoke out gleefully. Akira did not respond, instead choosing to start walking forward towards Madarame. Futaba didn’t see any sort of weapon on him, but that did nothing to make him think he was any less deadly. He didn’t spare a glance for anything in the room in front of him, his eyes focused squarely on Madarame. On his prey. Futaba’s heart pounded. She wasn’t scared of Akira, but she knew he was capable of things she would never be able to bring herself to do. She might have been scared for Yusuke, or maybe it was the anticipation of what she was about to witness. She knew deep in the pit of her stomach that she wasn’t going to like anything that she saw. She couldn’t bring herself to look away regardless.

“I’m grateful you didn’t keep me waiting long. I don’t need to suffer any more disappointments tonight than I already have,” Madarame continued on. Futaba noticed Yusuke stiff in his seat in front of her. His eyes were transfixed upon the scene before him. Madarame, in his insanity, holding his arms out to the advancing predator that was Akira.

“Of course, you’re on the wrong side of the easel to be of any use to me,” Madarame spoke, and his raised arms lowered. Just as Akira was about to step into the space in front of him, he suddenly jerked to a halt. Surprise lit his face, and he looked down. Futaba followed his gaze, and where Akira had stepped forward, a sigil had started to glow on the floor. One under his foot, and then suddenly more, burning in a circle around him. Following the sigils came lines and then a complicated web of symbols and text. Akira hissed out in pain, and his eyes lost their golden hue. Futaba could tell that he tried to force himself out of the circle that had formed around him on the floor, but it didn’t seem like he could move.

“Courtesy of one of my very generous donators,” Madarame chuckled, “he agreed to give me some knowledge on how to trap a Witch as long as I ensured you would not live long after tonight. It was an offer I simply couldn’t refuse. Even in death, your form will give rise to so much inspiration. After all, studying the human form, living or dead, is a specialty of mine.” Akira’s expression melted into a vicious snarl, not unlike a caged animal, even as his body locked in place. Futaba felt a real stab of fear. What was going to happen now? Akira could get out of this, right? He had to!

“Akira!” Futaba shouted shakily. His eyes darted up to her, and Futaba saw genuine distress in them, a worry for her and her life. Futaba felt tears starting to wet her face. This couldn’t possibly be happening.

Madarame bustled about to the side, confident in his invincibility. There were a few hanging ropes he examined, before finally tugging one free. A metal pole slammed down from the ceiling. Futaba let out an involuntary wail as she saw Akira get impaled sharply through the chest. Her own chest heaved up and down as she felt desperate sobs wrack her whole body. No, she couldn’t watch this, she didn’t want to see this! Another rope was yanked. Akira was impaled a second time. There wasn’t a single sound from him, nothing more than a wet gasp as blood pooled out of his mouth. He had enough control over himself to grasp one of the poles running through his back and out of the front of his stomach. Madarame watched him cough up and spew critically for a  few moments, before going up and grasping one of the bars. Akira’s face tightened with pain, not making a sound even as Madarame forcefully dragged his limp body by the poles over close and in front of Futaba.

“A guardian, failing his duty, dies protecting a weeping goddess. A beautiful scene where he’s at the steps of her temple, run through by spears and his dead body suspended by them over her as if still protecting her even in the afterlife. A chilling scene! It will make for one of my best pieces. It might even become more popular than even The Sayuri!” He falls into a cackling fit at this, and if Futaba could have torn her eyes away from Akira impaled and dying in front of her, she would have seen Yusuke flinch.

“Akira, please,” she whimpers, “Please don’t leave me. I’m so scared. Please!” Akira can barely lift his head to look at her. The twin poles running through him are now embedded in the floor in front of her, the only thing holding him up and keeping him in a hunched, protective position over her. It’s angled in such a way that he’s at her side, and Futaba still has a clear view in front of her where she can see the back of the easel and canvas where Madarame will paint them. How long will this take? How long will she have to sit here and sob as Akira bleeds out in front of her? She can’t handle this! She doesn’t want to see this anymore!

“Futaba,” Akira whispers quietly, and he’s slumping farther and farther, and Futaba watches his eyes contracting and dilating as his breaths come in uneven, wet sputters. He can’t leave her like this. They must both make it out of here! Futaba feels her heart stop when Akira’s breathing quiets down into nothing. His grey eyes are dull, still staring up at her, even as the light has left them. She sits up, screaming, and she won’t let this! Happen! Akira can’t die, he can’t go! Futaba needs her brother!

“Quiet your wailing!” Madarame hisses, “You’ll ruin the positioning of the cloth! All that’s left now is to slit that pretty little throat of yours, and then I can finally get to work!” Madarame produces a dagger from his sleeve, but all Futaba wants to do is get up and go to Akira’s side. A sudden movement grabs her attention, and Yusuke leaps out of his chair and roars as he tackles Madarame to the ground. The sudden, unexpected attack leaves Madarame to drop the dagger out of his hand as he falls backward, Yusuke landing on top of him. Yusuke manages to level a few punches before Madarame pushes Yusuke off him with inhuman strength. Yusuke crashes back into one of the paintings, one where a woman is holding a child. Yusuke quickly scrambles to his feet, looking very banged up, breathing heavily. But he merely charges forward again, unwilling to stop his assault.

“Yusuke!” Futaba cries out as Madarame punches him in the gut before throwing his body to the floor like a doll. Yusuke hacks and coughs violently in pain, curling up into himself. Madarame stands over his body, a look of disgust on his face. Futaba’s mind races and her eyes are drawn to the dagger on the floor. She must do something, she can’t allow this to continue! She crouches, moving as carefully to the blade as she can while Madarame is distracted, hissing foul words to Yusuke’s curled up form. Through the terror and the frenzy, Futaba’s sight has changed in her panicked mind. She can see vividly the dark shadow curled over Madarame’s form. The Parasite, leeching across his back and over his head like a second skin. She couldn’t see it so clearly before, but maybe the trauma had something to do with it? She wondered if it was a tangible thing she could strike. She would have to be quick though. She knew she had no physical capabilities whatsoever. One stab was all she was going to get before things went entirely south for her. She gripped the dagger’s handle hard in her hand to compensate for how it trembled in her grasp. She raised the knife and prepared to charge, ready to aim for the dead center of the shadow on Madarame’s back.

Madarame turned to her like lightning. Her eyes widened as he shot forward and gripped her neck with his hand, lifting her off the floor. Her free hand scrambled to his wrist, clawing desperately while the other stabbed viciously at his arm. Anything to get him off her! She was losing air, she couldn’t breathe! Madarame appeared unfazed by all of the jabs and cuts Futaba was giving him, wholly focused on chocking the life out of her. Her vision was going hazy, she could barely lift her arms anymore. She distantly heard Yusuke shouting, barely registering that he was now hammering on Madarame’s back, anything to try and release her. Suddenly, she felt a searing heat. Madarame dropped her without warning. She crumpled to the floor, gasping and coughing. Yusuke rushed to her side, putting his arms around her. She forced her head up.

Madarame was staring, completely paralyzed. Futaba cast her gaze over and saw Akira. The poles running through him were red-hot, smoking and burning through the floor. Akira… was standing up, straightening his posture. He grabbed one of the fire-red pokers and pulled it out of his body in one smooth motion, casting it down to the floor. He did the same with the other but held it tight in his hand. He spun around slowly towards Madarame. His eyes were red as fire, like blood. Black wings unfurled from his back, their edges alight like ash.

“You’ve been allowed to do as you please long enough. I will burn away your sin with the fires of my rebellion,” Akira growled. Madarame turned as if to run, and Akira pounced, throwing him face first onto the ground and ramming the fire-warped poker through the older man’s spine. He stabbed over and over, before standing up and then jamming the pole one last time through the back of Madarame’s skull. Akira let out a wail as his whole body erupted into blue flame, catching onto Madarame’s corpse on the floor and burning away everything. The fire lifted, and Akira turned away from the charred mess underneath him, to where Yusuke clutched Futaba. Futaba then realized that he was trembling, tears were running down Yusuke’s face.

“He’s gone,” Yusuke spoke, but there was no sadness in his voice. There was only a pure, naked relief.

“Yes,” Akira replied simply, a weary tone to his voice, “he is.” He crouched down next to the two of them.

“Please, Futaba,” He whispered reverently, “are you okay?” Futaba immediately wretched herself from Yusuke and flung herself at her older brother.

“Akira, Akira,” she cried out, “never freak me out like that ever again! I thought… I thought…” she couldn’t keep her thoughts coherent, babbling and sobbing, “Don’t ever leave me again!”

“I won’t, I promise I won’t,” Akira reassured her, holding her tightly in his arms, “I’ll always be here to protect you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Futaba sniffled and looked up from her hold around Akira. Yusuke sat, staring at the charred symbols on the floor where Madarame’s body had previously lay.

“Yusuke,” she called out, and his head jerked up at the sound of his name. She reached her arm out to him. He only stared for a moment, before hesitantly scooting closer. Akira grabbed him and pulled him into their embrace.

“You’re gonna be okay, kid,” He murmured softly, “Madarame won’t be able to control you ever again. You’ll be able to move on and heal from this, I promise you. You can overcome this. Don’t let him break you.” Yusuke trembled, and Futaba felt his head bob up and down in a nod.

“My mother…” he gasped through soft sobs, “I can’t let him define who she was, and how much she meant to me. I can’t let him ruin what made me feel close to her.”

“That’s right,” Akira encouraged fiercely, “The things that she loved, the things that you love, Madarame can never take away from you. You can’t let him take them away.” The three of them sat there like that for a little longer, before they slowly detangled. Akira helped Futaba wrap herself in some of the cloth to cover herself until they could get her home. Yusuke stood to the side awkwardly.

“What happens now?” He asked, looking at Akira for guidance.

“Go back to your room. Try to sleep. In the morning, call the police and tell them that Madarame has disappeared and you can’t find him. Tell them Madarame abused you, but after he left you in your room, that was the last you saw of him until morning. Let them try to figure out the rest. They won’t be able to tell what happened here. Don’t give them any more than that.” Akira picked up Futaba in a bridal carry and moved her to the stairs.

“Sit here for a moment,” he murmured. Futaba only nodded. Akira went back to the scene, picking up the knife on the floor. He inhaled deeply before taking it and pressing it against the inside of his wrist. Yusuke observed as he let blood well up on the tip and then tilt his head back.

“Go to Futaba at the stairs,” he said, and Yusuke scrambled to obey. Akira let his arms spread out wide, and Arsene fills him again. Flames licked his hands and arms. He charred everything, allowing the blade to fall out of his grip as it melted into an indiscernible lump of metal. And when the scene had been purged, he reigned the flames back into his body tightly. Akira turned and walked back towards them.

“For what it’s worth,” Akira quirked his lips up, “Arsene said it would be a shame if you didn’t grace his senses with more of your work.” Yusuke opens and shuts his mouth a few times, no words able to pass his lips. Akira escorted Yusuke back to his room, with promises that Yusuke would say nothing of Akira or Futaba’s presence.

“After everything you’ve done, it would be supremely dishonorable of me,” Yusuke confessed quietly. Akira gave him a soft smile.

“Here!” Futaba managed to scrawl a messenger ID with utensils Yusuke had on his desk, “Contact me any time. Y’know, if you need anything.” Futaba hurried back into Akira’s arms after she was done. Akira looked around and spotted Yusuke’s schoolbag. He walked over and tapped on it twice. There was a yowl, and Morgana crawled out of the open bag seconds later.

“My head is killing me,” Morgana hissed, “When I find out who’s responsible for this, I’m gonna claw their face off.”

“It speaks,” Yusuke mumbled with an expressionless face. That had to be the most disappointing reaction Futaba had ever seen to a talking cat. Not that she blamed him. He’d been through a lot.

“Make sure to get some rest, if you can,” Akira told him. Morgana nodded as he climbed up in Akira and Futaba’s arms.

“Sleep is super important,” the cat said. And with those parting words, Morgana blinked them back to Futaba’s room in Leblanc.

 

* * *

 

 

Futaba changed into something decent before following Akira downstairs. Akira and Sojiro were whispering in the kitchen but hushed immediately when Futaba was in earshot. Rude. Sojiro stood up and rushed to put his arms around her. They hugged for a good while before Sojiro felt like releasing her from his grip.

“I was so scared, kiddo,” he spoke gruffly, full of emotion.

“I’m okay now,” Futaba replied back, “Akira saved me just like he promised.” Akira gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. She knew he was probably beating himself up over what happened tonight. It was honestly scary for a second there. But Futaba believed in Akira. He saved her, and that was all that mattered. Sojiro gave a critical eye to her neck, and Futaba guessed there must be bruising from where Madarame had tried to strangle her.

“School uniform is a turtleneck,” Futaba said reflexively, “I won’t have trouble hiding this.”

“You shouldn’t have any bruises to hide in the first place,” Sojiro growled. Futaba saw Akira hang his head in guilt. She really didn’t want him blaming himself for anything. He did everything he could. He saved her.

“Go get to bed. You need all the rest you can get. Maybe I’ll call the school and have you out for sickness for a day or two. Takemi would easily cover for us,” Sojiro continued.

“No, I’m fine,” Futaba protested, “I don’t need time off from school. Really.” Sojiro looked her in the eye, before sighing and relenting.

“Okay. I’m just… worried.”

“I know. But it’s okay now,” Futaba hugged Sojiro again, and then quickly hugged Akira as well. She could tell he appreciated it. She gave them one last look over her shoulder before retreating up the stairs. She slept curled up with Morgana that night, hoping Yusuke was sleeping okay.

 

* * *

 

 

“It could only have been Wakaba’s research,” Akira said once Futaba was gone. Sojiro’s jaw clenched, “She studied Witches extensively, poured her heart and soul into it. It’s thanks to her that I’ve been able to go so long undetected by others. She’s unparalleled when it comes to Witch-warding.”

“So someone out there is handing around Wakaba’s research to Parasites? For what reason?” Sojiro gave Akira a piercing glance, “To catch you?”

“I think whoever Madarame got that research from, he told them that he was trying to catch a Witch. Parasites can tell what I am instinctually, even if they don’t understand what they’re sensing. But Madarame was able to recognize what I was on a conscious level, too. Enough to identify me as a Witch specifically and then take measures against me. They’ve never been able to do that before,” Akira confessed.

“I’ll need to set about tightening the wards around here, for starters. Whatever kidnapped Futaba… it was a demon. I’m certain of it. That means that there’s another Witch like me running around. And they delivered her right to Madarame. Maybe to bait me. I don’t know, I don’t have all the information yet.”

“We need to figure out all the information,” Sojiro responded, “And quickly. Before they find a way to disable you completely. Whoever got Futaba, they may be a Witch, but no one is able to resurrect like you. Even Wakaba was amazed by it. They’ve never figured out how you’ve done it. If you have that ace up your sleeve, we can keep trying.” Akira smirked mirthlessly.

“It’s nothing but a vengeful God’s curse. He won’t lift it until he’s managed to win against me. I’ll just need to keep getting ahead of the game.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter:  
> Extreme violence  
> Madarame being a bastard to Yusuke  
> How Yusuke is treated in general  
> My sweet art boy suffers greatly


	12. A Favor House Atlantic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plots are starting to be set into motion, and Futaba gets an unexpected request from one of her peers.
> 
> No warnings for this chapter

 

 _Your eyes tell the stories_  
_Of a day you wish you could_  
_Recall the moments that once have_  
_Retract the footsteps_  
_That brought us to this favor_  
_I wouldn't ask this of you_

 _The words you scribbled on the walls_  
_The loss of friends you didn't have_  
_I called you when the time was right_  
_Are you in or are you out_  
_For them all to know the end of us all_

* * *

 

 

Yusuke’s hand trembled as he stared down at a blank page of his sketchbook. He clutched a piece of charcoal in his hand, but still, it refused to move itself to paper. He’d barely had a wink of sleep; the sun was starting to peak over through the blinds on his window. This was the first time he’d ever encountered this problem. He was inspired, but he was afraid to put what he felt onto his canvas. He was scared that being inspired by the events of the night prior would make him like Madarame.

 _You can’t let him take what you love away from you._ Isn’t that what Akira had said to him? He couldn’t let this change him. Or at least, change the part of him that wanted to keep making art. His trembling hand finally moved down, and his charcoal touched paper. He didn’t stop until the growling in his stomach became painful. The sun was much higher in the sky now. It seems he’d lost track of time once again. Yusuke put down his charcoal, a much smaller piece now than what it had been when he’d started and studied his work. Akira; his shirt was destroyed and threadbare, his arms were extended out by his sides, and his hands were palms-up as if to project harmlessness. His head was tilted downward in an almost submissive and meek gesture, but his eyes were defiant and sharp, and there was a hard line to his brows that betrayed what his non-threatening posture was trying to hide. Yusuke took a black felt tip pen and traced lines along Akira’s arms in perfect memory of how he’d seen them the night before. Twisting symbols that had appeared and disappeared. Yusuke had a photographic memory and remembered every single detail. He traded his black pen for a red one. Blood-splatter formed around the head of Akira’s sketch, creating a facsimile of a halo. Red around his sides made the outline of damaged, half-formed wings. Yusuke completed the look with a single ring of red in Akira’s irises. Yusuke was content to be finished with his work for now.

It occurred to him that he probably shouldn’t delay calling the police on his former Sensei’s disappearance. He went downstairs, made a call in for a missing person, and fixed himself whatever he could find in the cupboards until the authorities showed up at the house. Yusuke was going to have a very long evening. The only saving grace is that he had time off from school while Madarame was holding his exhibition, given special permission to skip to help Madarame for the showing.

He had a new passion for getting back to his studies as quickly as possible.

 

* * *

 

 

Yusuke wasn’t surprised at how quickly the police had responded. Madarame was a well-known figure, and his disappearance was bound to be of priority. Yusuke simply held the door open and let the cops walk inside without speaking. What did surprise him, however, was to see a familiar face among them.

“Kitagawa-san,” Akechi greeted politely. Yusuke stared back at him, waiting for an explanation.

“Have you already forgotten? I’m a detective. I was assigned to this investigation. You called in that Madarame was missing?” Akechi questioned him as he entered. Yusuke shut the door behind him.

“Yes. I haven’t seen him since last night,” Yusuke replied truthfully.

“Hmm. Is it normal for him to go out so late?” Akechi continued. Yusuke answered more questions to the best of his ability, all while Akechi practically snooped around. The fact that Yusuke had been abused and then hid in his room to avoid his Sensei was lightly touched on for his reason as to not knowing Madarame’s whereabouts, when he left the house or if he left the house at all. Yusuke’s only remark was that he hadn’t seen him and that was unusual, considering they had a museum exhibit to run. A quick phone call was all it took to deduce that Madarame was not at the museum either.

“And what about down here?” Akechi asked, finally coming across the golden door to the basement.

“I was given stringent instructions that it was off-limits,” Yusuke spoke truthfully. That was all he said on the matter.

“Well, you wouldn’t mind if I had a look then?” Akechi asked, tapping the forensic camera strapped around his neck with gloved hands. Yusuke tilted his head as if to question why Yusuke’s consent mattered. Akechi took the point and moved down and opened the door to inspect the basement below. Yusuke kept himself firmly in the hallway. He had no desire to ever be near that room again. Akechi didn’t come back up for a good few minutes. When he did finally emerge, he had a thoughtful look on his face, and his hands were clutched around his camera.

“And you have no idea what is kept down in that basement?” Akechi asked. Yusuke knew what it looked like down there now. Charred to hell and nothing but piles of ash and wires to give any clue as to what Madarame had really kept down there. The real Sayuri had been destroyed as well, but Yusuke didn’t feel very upset about it. His mother’s last work was personal and wasn’t meant to be shown to the world for commercial profit. It was best that it had remained something sacred. Only Yusuke knew it’s real importance, and he found himself content with the fact that his mother’s feelings had reached him.

“If I ever stepped even one foot towards that door, Madarame would punish me. Why would I ever have reason to look?” Yusuke questioned back. Akechi regarded him penetratingly, but Yusuke was at peace with it all. He was fine with Akira’s brand of justice. He was perfectly happy to leave everything as it was.

Akechi eventually gave up searching Yusuke’s face for answers he wouldn’t find and continued with the rest of the house. Yusuke sensed it was all for formality’s sake, however. He seemed to have lost interest after being down in the basement as if he knew that he wouldn’t find anything in the rest of the house. He jerked to a stop when he looked around Yusuke’s room.

“Ah,” Akechi gave a small noise of surprise. Yusuke found him looking down at the sketch Yusuke had left out on his desk. Akira, in all his glory, the charcoal really gave him a smoky and mysterious look. As if he wasn’t quite tangible and could vanish from the page at a moment’s notice.

“This is Akira, isn’t it?” Akechi asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” Yusuke confirmed. It wasn’t like it was tough to tell who it was supposed to be.

“These markings along his arms, what do they mean? Where did they come from?” Akechi asked with a sudden intensity. Yusuke blinked.

“I honestly don’t know,” was his reply. Yusuke didn’t know a single lick of what any of it meant, and he didn’t understand how Akira had these symbols on him in the first place. It was just magic to Yusuke. Akechi frowned, and it was the first time Yusuke saw him visibly displeased with Yusuke’s answer. Yusuke was deliberately keeping himself as vague and honest as possible, but Akechi hadn’t looked to mind in the slightest. As though Yusuke’s answers didn’t really matter to him much. But this response was obviously different.

“I supposed we’ve wasted enough of each other’s time, then,” Akechi finally spoke after a moment of silence, forcing out a genial tone to his voice and a placid smile on his face. Yusuke was perplexed at how suddenly Akechi’s mood had swung. Yusuke was taken down to the police station for additional questioning, but it had amounted to nothing gained. There just wasn’t any evidence. Yusuke started going through the process of requesting dormitory accommodations at his school. He didn’t want to stay in Madarame’s house any longer.

 

* * *

 

 

Futaba spent much of her school morning texting Ann and Ryuji the details of what had happened the night before. The two of them were immediately concerned at the train station when they saw how worn-down Futaba looked. The bags under her eyes probably looked like eyeshadow at this point. But she’d managed to convince them that it wasn’t safe to talk about it through any other method than their phones. She was a tech genius, after all, and no one would be able to hack or intercept them this way. Or just old-fashioned eavesdrop like if they talked about it out loud. Futaba hadn’t told anyone but Morgana and Akira about it, but she felt… different. People around her overstimulated her in a brand-new way, and she was super uncomfortable about it. When she looked at people now, she could… see things. Not physically, but just suddenly she knew something that she didn’t before.

There was a dense layer over her senses when she looked at Akira like a blanket was thrown over her eyes. Akira explained he had wards on him to prevent other witches from sensing his presence. When he’d clarified that, it suddenly clicked into place for her. She could detect the wards on Akira. She felt magic like she would a heavy scent in the air, or maybe like mist against her skin. Morgana grew very concerned for her. After all, the wards simply erased Akira’s presence, and Futaba shouldn’t be able to sense anything at all. But she could still feel magic being exerted.

“Her senses are sharp, unnaturally so,” Morgana said as he looked up at Akira. They shared a secret look. Futaba realized they were keeping something from her.

“What do you know?” Futaba grilled them. Akira only shook his head. He would tell her eventually, but it seemed like he wanted to wait for now. Fine. Futaba was patient. She’d get him to spill the beans.

Even Ann and Ryuji looked different to her now. It was like there was a thin string around them, and Futaba could recognize it as slivers of magic connecting them to Akira. She had these herself, and so did Sojiro, in fact. But hers and Sojiro’s were more like bars than strings, dense and unbreakable. Morgana explained this as how strong Akira’s bond was with them, and what magical power he would have if he were to use those bonds for demon summoning.

“Exactly how many demons does Akira have anyways?” Futaba had asked Morgana that morning.

“More than I can count,” Morgana replied unhelpfully. Futaba was now accosted with how magically talentless and incompetent the people were around her with a single glance. It was kind of depressing.

Ever since the Kamoshida fiasco, the three of them made the roof of the school their private little lunch hangout to get away from the rest of the student body. There were a couple of particularly nasty rumors revolving around Ann and Ryuji about Kamoshida’s disappearance. Their reputation hadn’t really changed much, but they felt it was a small price to pay for what they’d been able to accomplish.

“I’ve been internally debating whether I should bother Yusuke and spam texts at him to see if he’s okay,” Futaba confided in them as they ate. Morgana stretched out and sunbathed beside Ann.

“It might be good to give him a little space at first,” was Ann’s advice, “But probably contact him tomorrow to make sure he hasn’t forgotten to use his phone. He strikes me as the type to be technologically handicapped.” Futaba nodded. She also had a similar feeling. She could spot a person’s tech level from a mile away. Another magical gift, mayhap?

“Nah, just bug the shit out of him. I feel like you’ll never get anywhere with him if you don’t keep nagging him,” Ryuji spoke around a mouthful of bread. Ann gave him a disgusted look.

“I’ll at least add him to our group chat,” Futaba told them, “Then we can all nag him at our own separate pace.” The three of them were startled when the door to the roof was pushed open. Morgana quickly jumped up and ducked into Futaba’s open bag. Futaba wished she could abscond so easily. The person at the door was none other than Student President Makoto Niijima herself. Futaba blinked. There was a bright aura around her. She was magically gifted.

“You do know that the rooftop is forbidden entry for students?” She questioned them, “What exactly is it that you’re doing up here?”

“Chill out, we wanted to eat lunch in peace,” Ryuji grumbled, distinctly uncomfortable with authority figures.

“We’ll just go ahead and leave now, then,” Ann spoke up with a fake smile. She stood and grabbed her things, glaring at Ryuji until he followed her lead. Futaba reluctantly got up as well. She liked it here on the roof.

“I sincerely hope the three of you aren’t getting into trouble. We’ve been cracking down on suspicious student behavior since the vandalism incident. I would hate to have to take disciplinary action against you,” Niijima prattled on. She already sounded like a teacher. She even followed them down the stairs to make sure they were heading back to their classes in time before the bell rang. Just before she and Ann made it back to their class, Niijima stopped them.

“Sakura-san, could I speak with you for a moment?” There wasn’t really any way for Futaba to refuse, so she just nodded her head. Niijima pulled her to the side.

“I just wanted to make sure you were adjusting well. You haven’t been… bullied or pushed into anything, have you?” Futaba would be insulted if it weren’t for Niijima’s complete sincerity. Even still, she felt inklings of indignation at the suggestion.

“If you were wondering, Ann and Ryuji have been really great friends to me. Better than anyone else here in this school,” Futaba huffed out, “So you really shouldn’t worry about me.” Niijima pursed her lips. She looked like she wanted to say more but instead kept it to herself. Satisfied that she’d set Niijima straight, Futaba turned on her heel and walked into class. At Ann’s curious glance, she quickly sent off a text message explaining everything. Futaba would have been happy if that had been the end of it, but little did she know, it most definitely wasn’t.

 

* * *

 

 

“Dude, is she still following us?” Ryuji hissed as quietly as he could manage.

“Yep,” Ann said, not even bothering to look up from her phone to check.

“This is getting ridiculous.”

“It was past that point last week,” Futaba replied. They were out in the arcade in Shibuya checking out some new shooter they installed that Ryuji was crazy for. Afterward, Ann was going to drag them to the underground mall for some shopping, but the fun mood was completely cramped. None other than their Student Council President Makoto Niijima was straight up stalking them. And not even hiding it very well. The group had merely taken to pretending they never noticed she was there, almost feeling sorry for how sorry she was at this even though it was apparent she was trying very hard to be discreet. It also helped that Futaba could sense her magic aura easily even in such a crowded place.

“I could distract her again,” Morgana whispered from Futaba’s bag. They’d managed to shake Niijima once successfully by deploying Morgana as a cute kitty disturbance. Niijima had been unable to resist Morgana’s charms and had petted him just long enough for the group to vanish.

“It’ll be suspicious if you show up again, I doubt it’d work a second time. Niijima’ll recognize you for sure,” Futaba reasoned. The group’s mood was completely ruined, so the ditched the arcade early in hopes that Ann’s shopping spree would bore Niijima enough that she’d give up tailing them for the rest of the day. She lasted longer than they all would have liked, but by sunset, Niijima gave up tailing them and went home. They decided to part ways not long after that.

“It’s almost like she’s hanging out with us,” Morgana purred at Futaba as she made her way home, “She should just try and become friends with us instead of watching!”

“I don’t really know why she’s following us, but I doubt it’s because she wants to be friends. Something about us being delinquents maybe. She even brought up the ‘vandalism’ incident to me. Maybe she’s trying to catch people who are breaking school rules?” Futaba replied.

“But why would she need to tail you when you aren’t even in school?” Futaba didn’t have an answer to Morgana’s question.

As she was walking down the streets of Shibuya, Futaba felt a prickle along the back of her neck and knew instantly that she was being followed; it wasn’t Niijima. All she sensed was someone’s hostile energy behind her and knew she had to duck out somewhere and get away. The first chance she could, she darted down a back alley and started running. Futaba recognized a bright bar of light that indicated someone Akira had formed a bond with down this way earlier in the day and had wondered about it. Now, she was counting on that beacon as her only hope for protection. She ended up bursting through the doors of some novelty shop called ‘Untouchable’. She barely registered all the toy guns and other fake weapon collector items as her eyes frantically landed on the store owner. He had been relaxed with his feet up on the counter and a magazine in front of his face but had instantly put his feet back on the ground and threw the magazine on the counter when Futaba had thrown the door open. He was now glaring at her with a tight-lipped frown.

“What the fuck is your problem kid? If you’re here to cause trouble, you need to leave: now,” He growled out. Futaba was almost frozen solid by the hostility but managed to stutter out a reply.

“Akira! I’m Akira’s sister! I need to hide!” she forced out, not even able to explain herself very well. Morgana popped his head out of her bag. As soon as Akira’s name was uttered, the man was already standing up and ushering her behind the counter. As soon as he saw Morgana, he hurried and opened a back door for them and pushed Futaba inside quickly. As the door shut behind them firmly, Futaba observed that she was in some sort of storage room. Not even a minute later, Futaba heard the front door chime ring out.

“Sorry, I’m afraid we’re closing early,” Came the store owner’s gruff voice.

“Where is she?” another man asked.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” was the calm reply, “As you can see, I’ve been dead pretty much the whole afternoon. And women don’t really like these kinds of places.”

“I’m under orders from Kaneshiro,” the other man put emphasis on the name as if it were important, “So you better cooperate, Munehisa.” The second name was sneered out like an insult.

“First of all, it’s hard for me to be cooperating when I don’t even know what the hell you’re going on about. Second off, I’m the reason that little shit-stain Kaneshiro is even in power over Shibuya, to begin with, so you better brush up on how to give your betters some respect. Otherwise, you’ll learn up close and personal exactly how my old clan was exterminated off the Shibuya map, you understand?” There was a beat of silence as neither man talked. Then, there was a shaky reply.

“S-sorry Munehisa-san. I won’t take up any more of your time.” The bell-chime rang out as the front door opened and closed quickly. There was a long sigh.

“Alright kid,” the door in front of Futaba opened, and the man held it for her, “you might want to not leave for a little bit just to make sure he’s gone. I can lock up and walk out before you to scout it out.”

“Thank you,” Futaba muttered quietly.

“You really did us a solid Iwai!” Morgana chirped out. The man gave out a short huff as if he’d stopped himself from chuckling.

“I bet I did. That was one of Kaneshiro’s men if you didn’t hear. What the hell did you do?” Iwai asked.

“Nothing. He just started following me suddenly. When I noticed I ran down here,” Futaba responded truthfully. Iwai quirked an eyebrow at her.

“How did you know I would help you?” He lifted a hand and gestured to Morgana, “Did the cat tell you about me? Or Akira?” Futaba shook her head.

“No, I don’t know you at all. I… I can see when Akira has magic tied to other people. I simply followed this tie to its source. I knew Akira trusted you, so I trusted you too.”

“So, you’re a Witch then,” Iwai mumbled to himself. Louder he said, “You’re right though, Akira and I are sworn brothers. If you’re his little sister, I would have given my life to protect you. Akira would do the same for my kid Kaoru.” Iwai grimaced. “I would know, the idiot took a bullet for him already. Came back from the dead, too, crazy fucker. Not that I’m ungrateful, I’m happy he did it; Kaoru wouldn’t have been able to shrug off a bullet to the head like he did.” Futaba made a mental note to ask Akira about this particular story.

“But that still doesn’t give us a clue to why Kaneshiro would send someone after us,” Morgana spoke up, “Or even how he would know about Futaba in the first place.”

“I wish I could tell you. I swear I would if I could,” Iwai said, “I thought you guys said that he was under a blood oath anyways.”

“He’s under a blood oath to never reveal anything he knows about Akira to anyone. He physically can’t do it. If he ever managed to break that oath somehow, well… the consequences would be… very severe,” Morgana spoke seriously, “A worse fate than death.”

“But literally the only reason I can think he’d have someone follow you is your connection to Akira,” Iwai growled as he whipped out his phone, “C’mon kid, I’ll take you home.” A very tense but thankfully uneventful train-ride later, and they were walking back through the front doors to Leblanc. Akira, who had been cleaning a glass, immediately set it down when they walked in with a stern expression on his face. Someone Futaba recognized was also sitting at the counter: Akechi.

“Welcome to Leblanc,” Akira greeted with a smile. His eyes flickered down to Futaba, “It’s rare these days for you to come to visit me.”

“Just wanted to check on you. I wanted you to watch that Featherman movie with me. The one I’ve been trying to get you to see for a while now?” Futaba nagged. There was no such movie, but Futaba could read the atmosphere. Akira was pretending like he didn’t know who Iwai was. So, Futaba had to have a reason for walking into Leblanc by herself.

“I know I promised to spend time with you, Futaba. You can wait upstairs until I’m ready to lock up for the night if you want,” Akira gave her a way out. Futaba took it.

“Yes!” She exclaimed and bolted. Futaba could hear Akechi chuckle behind her as she ran up the stairs. Akira was the one who lived here, and it seemed like Akechi spent more time here than he did. Futaba hovered over the railing to hear the conversation downstairs.

“I’d just like a plate of curry to-go,” Futaba heard Iwai say.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been here, too,” Akira said, “I honestly can’t remember the last time I’ve seen your face.”

“Been real busy with work, don’t really have a reason to come down much anymore. But I had a bad craving for your curry tonight for dinner. Made time for myself to come by and get it, I didn’t want anything else.”

“I can understand the feeling, there really is something special about it,” Akechi interjected himself into the conversation. The guy really couldn’t go two seconds with Akira paying attention to anyone else, could he? Futaba found herself rolling her eyes.

“It should be famous. It deserves awards,” Akira replied. There was a small stretch of silence where Futaba assumed Akira was busy with the food.

“Thanks for the grub,” Iwai said, “Gotta get home.”

“Have a good night. Take care,” Akira wished him well in a very customer-service-tone voice.

Akechi stayed until Akira had to close the café. Did this guy really have no life, that he had to keep up the whole night here?

“I hope you two have fun with your movie night. You’ll have to tell me what you thought of it. I consider myself quite the Featherman fan,” he was saying as he was leaving.

“I’ll write up a critique for you to read, then,” Akira joked back. As soon as the door closed, Akira came upstairs.

“Iwai texted me that he was coming,” Akira said right away, “Are you okay Futaba?”

“I’m fine. I just don’t understand what happened,” Futaba prompted, hoping Akira would explain. Akira let out a deep sigh.

“It’s complicated, but there’s no point in keeping it a secret from you. Iwai used to be part of the yakuza. The head of his family was a Parasite. Long story short, I helped Iwai escape from his clan and kill the family head in the process. I had to get Kaneshiro’s help to overthrow the whole clan.”

“Morgana said you had a blood pact with Kaneshiro,” Futaba said.

“I had to ensure Kaneshiro’s silence because he knew what I was. He was there when I killed the yakuza Parasite. In exchange for taking over the yakuza family and all their territory, he had to swear an oath to never betray any knowledge he had of me. He cannot speak a single thing, not even a hint or implication. He can’t even simply talk about something I’ve done while still not saying my name or attaching me to the action. If he knows it’s about me, he cannot tell it. That makes what happened today extremely suspicious. What reason would he have for trying to track me down after all this time? Unless he’s trying to find out a way to get rid of me without breaking his oath.” Akira gave a dark chuckle. “He cannot begin to hope of betraying me without punishment. If he knows you have a connection to me, he cannot hurt you.”

“He’s gone this long not bothering you,” Morgana said, “Suddenly taking action like this, someone must be pushing or threatening him. Put him under enough pressure, and he ends up doing stupid things. He’s a real piece of work, a real coward and greedy too.”

“I don’t doubt that going directly to him for answers will be a trap as well,” Akira grumbled to himself, “As long as the oath still holds I can’t take action against him. There’s nothing I can do but wait. It would be foolish to give myself away just yet. But if Kaneshiro continues to try and play against me, he’s bound to slip up and make a mistake soon. He’ll live only just long enough afterward to fully regret it.”

 

* * *

 

 

Despite the risks involved, Akira took the rare opportunity to walk Futaba to school the next morning. They chatted, and Futaba was able to give Akira a small update on Yusuke. He was apparently going to live in his school’s dorms and hadn’t had any trouble with the police when they came investigating Madarame. Akira was thankful Yusuke wasn’t harassed or mistreated. Futaba felt uneasy the whole school day, raw with anticipation that she couldn’t describe. It all came to a head when Niijima came to catch Futaba during the lunch break before she could scurry off with Ryuji and Ann to find a new hiding place.

“Sakura-san, it’s urgent that you come with me to the Student Council room,” she said with as much authority as she could muster. It was very intimidating, so Futaba followed without complaint. The two of them entered the empty room, and Niijima shut the door behind them, gesturing for Futaba to sit at the table. Niijima sat opposite and fixed her with a stern expression. She reached into her pocket, and Futaba watched as her face morphed into something a bit more unsure. Now Futaba was curious. Niijima eventually pulled out a small crystal on a delicate silver chain from her pocket and set it onto the table.

“I know that you’re a Witch, Sakura-san,” Niijima said in a hushed tone, “You don’t have to be scared. I’m one too. And so is my older sister. We come from a line of magic that serves as protection against other harmful magical forces. My sister works in a special branch of the police force that handles investigations on magical and supernatural violence. She’s been working on a… special case for a long time now. I’m not supposed to know anything about it, but she’s been under a lot of pressure lately, and I’ve been trying to figure out a way to help her. I finally got a break when she and a colleague of hers left this at our house a couple of nights ago. I figured out that it can trace the magical properties of other people and things. They weren’t really investigating vandalism here at the school. I know because I could use this stone to find strong traces of magic around the school. And it was how I realized you were a Witch.”

Niijima paused, and Futaba let all this information sink in. So, Makoto’s sister was like, part of some sort of magical task force? And they were obviously hunting for information on Akira. They were investigating cases made from when Akira trailed Parasites. Did they know Akira was hunting Parasites, or did they think Akira was merely a serial killer going after innocent people? Futaba wished she could ask Niijima, but it was apparent that she was doing everything she could to get information for her sister. Anything Futaba said about Akira would be a death sentence. She had to be careful, she didn’t even know if Niijima knew anything about their connection to all of this.

“I only just came into my powers recently,” Futaba decided on saying, “I don’t even really know what I can do yet.”

“That’s normal. You’re a bit of a late bloomer, but there’s no way of knowing what can trigger magical powers into coming forth. Especially if you’re not from an already established bloodline like I am. I… also wanted to apologize for tailing you and your friends. I didn’t realize that the investigation my sister was on involved something much bigger than some petty magical tagging. There is… something much worse going on. And I firmly believe you, Takamaki-san, or Sakamoto-san would ever do anything as vile as…” Niijima took a deep breath. Futaba wondered what information she learned about her sister’s investigation. It was clear she knew way more than she was supposed to, but just what exactly was the context of that information?

“Why are you telling me all of this? Wouldn’t it be better to leave all of this to your sister? It sounds like this is a lot more serious than anything we should be sticking our noses into,” Futaba cautioned, playing the voice of reason.

“No! I can’t… Sis is running herself into the ground over this case re-opening. I don’t want to see her like this anymore… I feel so useless. She’s hardly ever home, and when she is, she’s still working and barely acknowledges me. I can’t take it anymore…” Softer, Makoto said, “I want my sister back.”

“And what are you going to do to try and help her?” Futaba asked Makoto gingerly. Makoto took a deep breath and collected herself.

“I have some suspicions of illegal magical activity going on. I believe that students are being wrangled into trafficking illegal magical tracers by… a yakuza organization,” The last part was whispered out, “They’re being targeted into these jobs to make easy money just carrying packages around. But with my tracer, I was able to tell what was inside those packages. When tracers ping off each other, it’s different than when they ping on other sources of magic. That’s how I know they’ve been unknowingly delivering tracers all over the place. This could be a big break in my sister’s case if I can prove it to her. The yakuza are looking for something, and I have suspicions that the suspect she’s looking for in her recent cases is part of the yakuza and is also responsible for this suspicious behavior. It might be how they decide on targets. I’m going to need help looking farther into it.”

“Hold on, you’re going around investigating yakuza thugs by yourself?” Futaba was honestly amazed at Makoto’s determination, “That’s way too dangerous! Are you serious?”

“I have to do this,” Makoto replied with steel in her voice, “But I know that I won’t be able to do it all alone. All I’m asking is that you help me to get scouted by a yakuza to take on one of their jobs delivering those packages. If I can get my hands on one and take it to my sister, then that could be a solid lead she could investigate. It’d help take pressure off her if she could finally get a big break on her case.”

‘Makoto is hell-bent on doing this,’ Futaba thought to herself, ‘It’d be way safer if I went with her. But there are also yakuza looking for me for that Kaneshiro guy. Going out of my way to find them won’t be a good thing for me. But I can’t exactly let that slip to Makoto either, or then she’ll start asking questions. I can’t afford to lead her back to Akira in any way. I’ll need to ask him and Morgana for help. There’s no way I’m going to let Makoto put herself into this kind of danger. She’s desperate and not thinking about her own safety.’

“I’ll help you, but only because I don’t want you to get into a bad situation,” Futaba told her clearly, “I’m letting you know right now that I think this whole plan is completely ridiculous.” Makoto gave a relieved smile.

“I know how it sounds, but it’ll all be straightforward,” Makoto reassured her. Somehow Futaba doubted that very much.


End file.
